OF  TWE 

imivHBsrri 


"HIGH  JOE;" 


OR  THE  LOGGER'S  STORY^ 


J.  BURRITT  SMITH. 


People   never   go    right  until  they  have  tried  all  pos- 
sible ways  of  going  wrong.— Herbert  Spencer. 


The   Busy   World  Publishing   Ca 

PUBLISHERS, 

MADISON,     WISCONSIN. 


PRICE    IN    PAPER,    50    CENTS;    CLOTH,    $1 


00. 


Copyright,  1893, 
By  J.  BuRRiTT  Smith. 


o 


Sgs"/ 


DEDICATION. 


To  the  "boys"  in  the  woods,  the  mills,  the  work- 
shops, the  mines  and  the  factories,  constituting  to- 
gether the  grand  army  of  toilers  who  make  possible 
comfort,  wealth,  progress  and  a  better  civilization, 
but  who  are  today  the  prey  of  high-handed  robbery 
and  avarice,  often  under  legal  sanction,  this  unpre- 
tending volume  is  dedicated.  The  hope  of  its  author  is 
that  it  may  arouse  the  careless,  awaken  the  sleepers 
and  enlist  a  general  sympathy  between  all  classes,  to 
the  end  that  a  spirit  of  brotherhood  may  cement  all 
hearts  and  lives,  purposes  and  laws  in  a  national, 
fraternal  bond  stronger  than  any  or  all  forms  of  op- 
pression, and  make  ours  truly  "the  land  of  the  free 
and  the  home  of  the  brave." 


M644611 


CONTEXTS. 

CJiapter. 

Prologue. — The  License  Srcrifice. 

1.  Turkey  Dinuer. 

'J.  The  Logger's  Story  Opens. 

3.  Our  Manufactories. 

4.  Practical  Methods  Applied. 

5.  A  Liquor  Maniac.    . 

6.  Slaver  and  Slaves. 

7.  A  Daring  Sermon. 

8.  A  Vital  Question. 

9.  Who  Pays. 

10.  The  Mills  Grind  On. 

11.  A  Break  in  the  Clouds. 

12.  Merited  liebukes. 

13.  A  Realistic  Dream. 

14.  Drive  on  Your  Bone  "\Vpgon 

15.  Pictures  from  Real  Life. 

16.  A  TelliDg  Speech. 

17.  A  Congress  of  Xations. 

18.  Fires  Without  and  Within. 
10.  Men  W^ho    Sell  Us  Out. 
2).  We  Part  Company,  Today. 

21.  A  Typical  Campaign. 

22.  A  Woman's  Speech     . 

23.  Rum's  Hollocaust. 
21.  Prohibition  Prohibits. 

25.  Tariff  and  Protection. 

26.  The  v^'ork  of  a  Plotter. 

27.  The  Old,  Old  Story. 

28.  The  "New  Jerusalem  Infernos." 

29.  No  Prayin'  Dan'l.        .      . 

30.  The  Sirocco'ji  Blast. 
31,,  WhippoH  to    Death. 

32.  Rescued  in  Exile. 

33.  Come  to  the  Kingdom. 


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PREFACE. 


In  offering  the  following  story  to  the  public,  the 
author  wishes  to  make  a  few  words  of  explanation  as 
to  its  origin  and  purpose: 

In  the  early  winter  of  1891-2,  some  of  our  friends 
planned  to  send  a  prohibition  paper  to  the  many 
logging  camps  in  the  northern  part  of  the  state.  It 
occurred  to  the  writer,  that  perhaps  more  attention 
might  be  secured  for  the  paper,  were  it  to  contain  a 
story  that  would  interest  the  "boys"  in  the  woods. 
The  title  and  a  brief  outline  came  to  the  author,  and 
he  wrote  the  first  chapter  and  offered  it  for  pub- 
lication. It  was  gUtdly  accepted,  but  in  a  few 
weeks  the  plan  failed  for  lack  of  funds.  The  story, 
however,  was  continued,  and  words  of  commendation 
with  requests  that  it  be  put  in  pamphlet  form,  began 
to  come,  as  the  story  grew.  Constant  requests  and 
inquiries  for  '"High  Joe"  since  its  completion,  have 
led  to  its  present  publication. 

As  to  its  form  and  general  trend,  a  word  may  not 
be  amiss.  Only  one  purpose  influenced  its  production 
— the  presentation  in  a  rugged  and  vivid  way  of 
the  terrible  evils  of  the  nation's  legalized  drink- 
traffic,  and  the  criminal  complicity  of  good  men  in 
sanctioning  it. 

"High  Joc"  is  emphatically  a  story  of  "miidnight 
vigils",  nearly  every  chapter  having  been  written 
between  seven  and  one  o'clock  at  night,  as  it  was 
needed  for  publication,  and  when  the  writer  was 
tired  and  exhausted  by  incessant  labors  and  a  multi- 
tude of  cares.  It  was  set  up  from  the  pencil  original, 
with  only  the  few  corrections   that  the  press  of  other 


VI  PREFACE. 

work  allowed.  In  this  latter  work  he  was  greatly 
assisted  by  his  wife,  who,,  in  all  of  his  writing,  is  an 
ever  present  "help-meet." 

In  republishing  the  story,  other  work  and  imited 
time  have  made  possible  only  slight  revision  or  change. 

Scarcely  an  incident  is  related  that  a  similar  one 
in  actual  life  has  not  been  known  or  clipped  from  the 
daily  press.  Could  we  have  done  so,  and  be  true  to 
our  purpose  to  paint,  as  far  as  possible,  a  true  pict- 
ure, we  would  gladly  have  omitted  the  unpleasant 
scenes  and  sorrowful  events. 

Should  any  one  think  we  strike  the  indifferent 
professor  or  the  careless  church  too  hard,  we  can  only 
say  that  we  esteem  Christ's  church  above  all  earthly 
organizations,  and  believe  that  the  Gospel  is  the 
power  of  God  to  the  conversion  of  the  license-voter, 
no  less  than  the  licensed-seller  or  the  liquor- drinker. 
We  have  not  overlooked  the  fact  that  many  churches, 
ministers  and  members  are  giving  heroic  battle  to 
the  rum  host,  nor  that  the  greatest  strength  of  the 
movement  for  its  overthrow  is  che  love  begotten  in 
consecrated  hearts  by  the  spirit  of  the  Master. 

These  rather  lengthy  explanations  have  been  deemed 
necessary,  lest  some  one  through  haste,  misconcep- 
tion of  the  author's  motives,  or  aroused  prejudice 
may  be  induced  to  close  the  following  pages  and  give 
their  sorrowful  truths  no  consideration. 

Prayerfullv  and  lovingly  we  submit  "High  Joe"  to 
the  hearts  of  all  earnest  readers,  hoping  that  when  its 
pages  are  perused,  each  -vir  be  prepared  the  better 
to  answer  the  momentous  question,  in  the  fight  with 
this  great  evil:     "What  shall  /do?" 

Madison,  Wis.,  June  1,  1893.  The  Author. 


PROLOGUE 


THE  LICENSE  SACRIFICE. 

A  mother  sits  weeping  in  sorrow  and  shame; 
Her  heartstrings  are  bleeding,  her  love  all  aflame; 
While  the  cry  from  her  heart  for  her  long  erring  boy- 
Is,  "Where,  oh  where!  is  my  darling,  my  Roy?" 

"My  boy,"  she  cries,  "with  his  laughing  blue  eye, 
"And  the  smile  that  he  gave  me  whene'er  he  passed  by; 
"His  light,  joyous  step,  his  ringing  ha!  ha! 
"His  call,  as  he  entered;  'where,  where  is  mamma?' 

"I  rocked  his  wee  cradle  and  wheeled  his  small  cart, 
"That  carried  my  treasure,  the  joy  of  my  heart; 
"Then  taught  his  small  feet  the  way  they  should  run, 
"And  laughed  at  his  rollicking,  innocent  fun. 

"I  sang  with  my  bonnie,  and  heard  his  sweet  prayer; 
"Then  asked  the  dear  Father  to  lead  him  with  care, 
"^Yhile  up  toward  the  stature  of  nmnhood  he  grew, 
"The  boy  of  my  heart,  so  honest  and  true. 

"In  schoolroom,  on  playground,  at  home,  on  the  street. 
"Wherever  he"d  go,  whoever  he'd  meet, 
"The  same  pleasant  smile  and  light,  cheery  word, 
"Earned  rightly  for  Roy,  the  nickname  of  'Bird.' 

"He  grew  to  full  manhood,  tall,  stately  and  true, 
"With  smile  still  as  sweet  and  eye  just  as  blue, 
"Then  out  in  the  world  he  went  from  our  hearts. 
♦•To  the  battle  of  life  in  the  world's  busy  marts. 

"He  went,  but  he  came  not;  oh,  now  can  I  tell, 
•♦Of  his  fall  from  our  heaven  to  the  world's  deepest  helll 
"Down,  down  from  the  teachings  of  mother  and  home, 
"To  the  vileness  and  sin  of  a  licensed  saloon 


VI  IT  PROLOGUE. 

"lie  went  away  to  the  wild,  throbbing  west, 
"And  entered  its  life  with  his  young  manhood's  zest: 
"He  breathed  the  free  air,  but  a  poison  it  bore 
"From  the  depths  of  many  a  high  licensed  door. 

"He  breathed  of  that  poison,  then  entered  the  door, 
"Where  virtue  once  entered,  is  virtue  no  more; 
"And,  all  of  his  passions  aflame  to  destroy, 
"Went  down  lilie  a  wreck,  my  once  noble  boy. 

"lie  sleeps  in  a  valley  where  gay  western  flowers 
"Grow  tiiick  o'er  his  grave,  fed  by  wild  mountain  showers; 
"While  the  mother  that  bore  him,  now  robbed  of  all  joy, 
"Sits  comfortless,  mourning  the  death  of  her  boy. 

"Oh  I  why  did  they  dig  such  pits  for  his  fall? 
•'And  why  did  they  send  to  the  East  such  a  call? 
"Were  there  not  enough  boys  in  all  the  broad  West, 
"Without  sending  and  taking  my  brightest  and  best? 

*  Did  they  need  for  the  building  of  city  and  stre:*. 
"More  lives  than  ihey  had.  more  innocent  feet? 
"So  laid  broad  their  nets,  then  sent  for  my  boy, 
"Only  to  lare,  to  entrap  and  destroy? 

"Must  they  build  bro^d  their  cities  Lnd  high  college  spires 
"By  licensing  sin's  most  unquenchable  fires? 
"Will  they  never  cease  sacrifice,  never  be  done 
"The  selling  our  boys  to  the  demon  of  Rum? 

"O  God,  reach  down,  and  s^ve  other  boys! 
"Rob  not  other  hearts,  like  mine,  of  their  joys! 
"Waken  men;  rescue  manhood;  drive  Rum  from  all  lands; 
"Oh!  spare  mother  hearts  by  Omnipotent  hands. 

^'God  tcaken  the  church  and  icaken  the  state! 
^^Au'aken  our  j^eople,  the  inch  and  the  great! 
^'Hurl  thiniflerholts  doivn,  if  needed,  to  stay 
"r/i/.s  tru^fjic  in  blood.     God  hasten,  I  pray!"' 

J.  B.  Smith. 
March,  1S5S. 


HIGH   JOE; 

OR, 

THE    LOGGER'S    STORY, 


CHAPTER  I. 


TmKEY    DINNER. 

The  winter  had  set  in,  and  a  heavy  freeze  and 
good  snow  made  it  possible  for  the  loggers  to  get  into 
camp  and  begin  the  long  winter's  work,  nearly  a 
month  ahead  of  the  usual  time. 

In  the  'Carson  Camp"  the  men  had  been  at  work 
for  two  months,  and  the  great  piles  of  logs  upon  the 
skidwavs,  stretching  along  the  bank  of  the  river  for 
half  a  mile,  told  of  the  hard  work  that  had  already 
been  done  by  a  body  of  fifty  sturdy  choppers  with 
teamsters,  scalers,  cooks  and  tote-men. 

When  the  crew  arrived  at  the  camps,  late  in  Octo- 
ber, fifty  miles  from  any  cit\,  and  in  a  wilderness  of 
pine  swamp,  there  were  many  who  felt  lonesome  and 
dreaded  the  long,  solitary  winter  so  far  from  home, 
news  and  civilization.  This  feeling  was  not  improved  by 
finding  already  there  as  foreman,  the  man  from  whom 
the-  camp  took  its  name,  and  that  he  was  a  cold, 
1 


2  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

heartless  taskmaster,  bound  to  do  the  best  he  could 
for  his  employer  without  regard  for  the  feelings  or 
comfort  of  the  men. 

Most  of  the  choppers  had  been  together  for  several 
winters;  but  among  the  few  new  men  was  a  giant- 
like fellow,  whose  pleasant  face  and  broad  forehead 
rose  six  feet  and  four  inches  above  his  moccasins. 
Though  a  stranger,  all  had  come  to  look  upon  "High 
Joe,"  as  they  dubbed  him,  not  only  as  a  friend  but 
the  leader  in  all  plans,  except  those  of  the  foreman. 

<'New  Year's"  morning  dawned  dark,  promising 
snow  before  night,  but  as  usual,  the  foreman  called 
all  hands  at  half-past  four  that  they  might  be  out 
and  ready  for  work  as  soon  as  any  light  appeared. 

"I  am  not  going  to  work  to-day,"  called  High  Joe, 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  all  the  camp.  <'We  have 
worked  two  months,  fourteen  hours  a  day,  and  a  holi- 
day will  do  us  good  and  be  no  loss  to  the  company." 

With  this  he  rolled  over  on  his  bunk  and  was  soon 
Bleeping  again.  His  example  was  followed  by  the 
others,  who  knew  Joe  expected  it,  and  when  the 
foreman  came  in,  half  an  hour  later,  he  began  swear- 
ing and  cursing  more  than  usual,  and  threatening  all 
with  discharge  if  they  were  not  up  at  once. 

"I  say,  boss,"  called  out  Joe,  "we  are  going  to 
have  a  holiday  and  don't  want  to  be  disturbed  any 
more." 

'J  here  was  something  about  his  voice  that  told 
the  foreman  it  would  be  best  to  regard  the  brawny 
giant's  words,  and  he  went  out  muttering. 

At  a  late  hour  the  crew  rolled  from  their  bunks, 
feeling    several  years  younger  for  this  unusual  sleep, 


THE  LUGGER'S  STORY.  8 

and    In    good    spirits    to    enjoy  the  day.     The   cook 

served  a  hasty  breakfast,  promising  to  make  up  for 
it  by  turkey  for  dinner;  and  all  began  wondering  how 
such  an  article  found  its  way  so  far  from  civilization, 
especially  into  the  Carson   Camp. 

High  Joe  said  nothing,  but  examined  ten  fat 
turkeys  with  evident  pleasure.  To  some  of  the  in- 
quisitive, however,  the  cook  volunteered  the  informa- 
tion, that  the  "high  flyers"  had  come  in  with  a  tote- 
team  the  night  before,  and  he  believed  High  Joe  had 
something  to  do  with  it. 

The  foreman  left  before  breakfast,  saying  he  would 
see  who  was  boss,  and  drove  rapidly  toward  the- 
company's  chief  camp,  twenty  miles  away. 

Just  before  dinner  the  head  partner  in  the  Logging- 
Company  came  in  by  another  road,  and,  as  he  saw 
the  men  in  camp,  inquired  the  reason.  Joe  explained,, 
and  invited  the  ''Colonel"  down  to  see  the  work  they 
had  done. 

"All  right,  boys,"  he  said  on  returning.  "I  think 
you  are  entitled  to  a  holiday.  No  other  camp  has 
done  as  well." 

The  Colonel  was  invited  to  sit  next  to  High  Joe  at 
dinner — the  latter  acting  as  host — and  was  not  a 
little  surprised  at  being  asked  which  part  of  the 
turkey  he  preferred. 

"I'll  have  to  inquire,"  said  he  good  humoredly, 
"how  ten  fat  turkeys  wandered  this  way,  or  who  pays 
for  them?" 

"We'll  find  some  one  who  can  explain,  if  necessary,  " 
said  Joe,  offering  him  a  well-loaded  plate.  "There's 
no  bill  against  the  company." 


4  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

When  the  dinner  was  finished  and  cleared  awaj ,  a 
conference  of  the  men  was  called  and  the  Colonel  in- 
vited to  be  present.  The  story  of  the  unkindness  of 
the  foreman  and  his  disregard  of  all,  was  quickly 
told,  and  a  general  request  presented  for  his  removal 
and  High  Joe's  appointment.  Before  night,  after  con- 
ferring with  the  teamsters  and  others,  the  request 
was  granted,  causing  great  rejoicing. 

Just  before  dusk,  Carson  drove  in,  and  was  told  of 
the  change  by  the  Colonel. 

"It's  no  use;  men  are  men,  and  deserve  to  be 
treated  like  men,"  was  his  reply  when  the  former 
tried  to  make  excuses.  "This  High  Joe  is  evidently 
the  man  for  the  place.  You  can  stay  or  go,  as  you 
please." 

"I'll  go,"  was  Carson's  answer,  "but  I  suppose  I'll 
have  to  wait  till  morning.  You'll  see  your  mistake 
in  three  months. 

As  darkness  settled  over  the  forest,  the  wind  sighed 
through  the  trees,  and  great  flakes  of  snow  fell  thick 
and  fast. 

"There's  a  heavy  storm  brewing,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"and  I  fear  I  won't  be  able  to  get  home  to-morrow." 

"Never  mind,"  said  High  Joe;  "we'll  make  room 
for  you  here.  We  want  you  to  join  us  in  the  dining- 
room  and  enjoy  our  New  Year's  exercises." 

A  half  hour  later,  the  long,  log  dining-room  was 
lio^hted  by  all  the  teamsters'  lanterns,  cleaned  as 
bri^'-ht  as  rubbing  could  make  them,  and  the  large 
stove  in  the  center  added  to  the  good-cheer  by  its  red- 
hot  sides.  The  tables  were  pushed  against  the  wall 
and   L.ll    the  chairs    and    benches  in    the    camp    were 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  5 

arr  anged  around  the  stove,  so  as  to  accommodate  the 
sixty  men,  who  found  places,  evidently  expecting 
something  but  notkaowiag  what.  A  few  moments 
later,  High  Joe  walked  in  with  a  barrel  on  his  shoulder ; 
and,  setting  it  down,  knocked  the  head  out  in  a 
rwinkle,  revealing  as  fine  a  lot  of  red  apples  as  one 
often  sees.  With,  "help  yourselves,  boys,"  he  went 
out,  only  to  return  again  with  two  pails  full  of 
mixed  nuts,  which  he  proceeded  to  turn  into  pans  and 
basins,  and  pass  around.  When  all  were  well  supplied 
with  apples  and  nuts,  none  knowing  how  they  got 
there,  Joe  said: 

"Now  Colonel,  our  only  charge  can  be  paid  by  a 
story.  We  want  half  a  (iozen,  long  or  short,  and  you 
are  the  man  to  lead  off.  When  all  the  rest  have  done, 
I'll  tell  how  the  turkeys,  et  cetera,  came  here,  and 
give  you,  to  close  with,  my  story.   Go  ahead,  Colonel." 


HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  logger's  story  OPENS. 

The  Colonel  began,  and.  as  the  apples  and  nuts  dis- 
appeared down  the  throats  of  sixty  interested  Listen- 
ers, told  of  his  boyhood  in  Wisconsin,  where,  in 
the  logging  camps  of  the  early  "sixties,"  he  lea-ned 
the  practical  knowledge  that  enabled  him  later  to  be- 
come a  successful  and  rich  lumberman,  who  yet  had 
no  greater  pleasure  than  the  four  or  five  months  of 
rude  life  each  winter  in  the  logging  camps  with  his 
men. 

Gne  after  another  the  stories  were  told,  till  High 
Joe's  turn  came,  when  all  sat  back  in  evident  expec- 
tation of  getting  the  best  of  the  feast.  Xo  one  knew 
just  who  he  was,  where  he  came  from,  or  anything  of 
his  past  life.  With  a  modesty  that  fittingly  accom- 
panied his  "big,"  unselfish  heart,  he  had  never  boasted 
of  great  deeds,  nor  told  what  such  a  giant  might  have 
accomplished.  Joe  was  a  worker  not  a  talker,  and  no 
man  could  equal  his  steady,  unerring  swing  of  the  ax, 
or  the  number  of  trees  that  fell  before  his  relentless 
chop,  chop,  all  day. 

All  loneliness  had  disappeared,  and  the  days  were 
gliding  by  almost  unheeded.  As  the  more  thoughtful 
ones  now  looked  back,  they  realized  how  different  life 
had  been  thus  far  in  the  Carson  camp,  from  former 
w'i.ters.     A    few   books,    papers    and   magazines  h^ 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  1 

rc--iilarlY  found  their  way  thither,  and  Joe  was  al- 
ways the  first  to  digest  them.  With  a  remark  about 
this  article  or  that  book,  he  had  kept  the  camp  alive 
vith  discussion  and  Rtudy,  till  books  were  well 
thumbed  and  papers  and  magazines  literally  worn 
out.  The  various  packs  of  cards  that  had  found  a 
place  in  most  of  the  choppers'  outfits,  had  received 
little  wear,  evidently  failing  to  amuse  as  ^  in  other 
days.  At  first,  the  foreman  ph.  laed  for  work  on  Sun- 
day, "but  Joe  ''set  his  foot  on  if  by  saying,  "I  can 
do"  more  chopping  in  six  than  in  seven  days,  and  I  am 
here  to  do  my  best;"  and  soon,  by  general  consent, 
all  followed  his  example.  With  the  same  tact,  he  then 
made  the  day  so  enjoyable  that  all  looked  toward  it 
with  the  brightest  anticipations  of  the  week. 

Thus  he  had  become  a  power,  shaping  everything 
for  the  happiness  and  good  of  others,  the  ^'cw  Year's 
dinner  being  the  result  of  this  thoughtfulness.  He 
began  by  saying: 

''Those  turkeys  and  apples  were  good,  weren't  they, 

boys?" 

'"You  bet!"  was  the  general  response. 

"Best    day    I    ever    spent    in    camp,"  said   a  lank 

Mainite. 

"Beo-orra,  I  niver    ate   sich  a  dinner,"  laughed  Pat 

Kinnev. 

"Zee  cook  and  zee  hoste  am  like  zee  Frenchman," 
grinned  a  little  Canadian  from  Montreal. 

'How    did    you    get    them    all,    Joe?"    asked    the 

Colonel. 

"I  wrote  a  friend  of  mine  in  C,"  was  the  reply, 
"telling   her   about    our  camp,    how  we  enjoyed  the 


f  niniJ  JOE:  OR, 

books  and  papers  she  had  sent,  and  wished  dU  who 
had  remembered  us,  a  merry  Christmas  and  a  general 
good  time  eating  Turkey.  I  closed  by  saying  we 
would  have  bread,  pork  and  beans  for  breakfast,  pork, 
beans  and  bread  for  dinner,  and  beans,  bread  and 
pork  for  supper.  She  took  the  hint,  as  I  hoped  she 
would,  and  wrote  me  wnat  she  would  send.  I  ex- 
pected the  things  for  Christmas,  but  they  were 
switched  off  and  only  came  last  night.  So  you 
see  whom  we  have  to  thank,  'Tis  one  of  those 
unions  of  good  women  v.-ho  remember  every- 
body's boys  whether  young  or  old.  They  work  to 
help  the  fellows  in  the  city,  the  woods,  the  mines  and 
everywhere.  You'll  know  how  I  came  to  know  and 
think  so  much  of  them,  when  you  hear  my  story.  I 
am  not  proud  of  the  past  boys,  but  will  tell  it  that 
no  one  here  may  suffer  what  I  have. " 

Leaning  his  chair  back  against  the  wall,  while  the 
blood  coursed  over  his  face  and  brow  as  though  driven 
by  heavy  heart-throbs,  and  a  deep  but  distant  fire 
burned  in  his  eyes.  High  Joe  began  his  story: 

•«I  was  born  in  New  York,  where  my  father  was  a 
prosperous  business  man  in  a  small  city  on  the  Erie 
Canal.  He  left  my  training  to  my  mother,  a  woman 
of  strong  character  and  lovable  disposition,  the  friend 
of  all  who  knew  her.  She  was  scrupulous  in  the 
neatness  and  order  of  the  whole  house,  and,  being  a 
a  college  graduate  with  literary  qualities  well  devel- 
oped, spent  all  time  not  required  for  household  cares 
and  social  calls,  with  her  favorite  books  and  authors. 
The  one  annoying  thing  in  the  house  was  her  restless, 
noisy,  growing   boy.      There  was   no    place  for  him  in 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  9 

vhich  to  develop  his  many-sided  nature.  The  wood- 
shed was  too  full  for  a  work-shop  and  the  kitchen  too 
nicely  scoured  and  polished  for  whittling  or  any  boy- 
ish muss.  The  yard  was  so  nicely  sodded  that  no  one 
could  run  or  play  ball  there.  Father  found  time  after 
tea  to  sprinkle  the  lawn  for  half  an  hour  and  admon- 
ish me  with,  'Now  Joey,  remember  and  keep  off  the 
grass;  we  want  our  lawn  to  look  as  well  as  the 
others.' 

I  rapidly  became  acquainted  with  <the  fellows,' 
good  and  bad,  and  came  early  to  know  all  of  the  mys- 
terious things  of  life  which  they  had  learned.  My 
father  inquired  often  after  my  school  work,  but  had 
no  thought  for  my  street  education,  although  he  gave 
almost  daily  attention  to  the  feeding  and  care  of  sev- 
eral Jersey  calves  he  had  imported.  Though  my 
mother  loved  m.e  and  seldom  missed  tucking  me  in 
bed  and  hearing  my  prayers  at  night,  the  oft-repeated 
admonitions  of  the  day  as  I  rushed  in  to  ask  some 
question  or  favor,  were,  'Now  Joey,  I  wish  you  would 
Bit  down  and  be  quiet;'  or,  <Do  go  and  play  outdoors; 
there  is  no  place  for  boy's  noise  in  the  house.'  I 
soon  carried  secrets  which  I  feared  to  tell  my  mother 
and,  as  for  my  father,  I  would  sooner  have  thought  of 
telling  them  to  strangers. 

I  can't  tell  you  half  of  the  events  of  those  days.  I 
was  everywhere  and  in  everything ;  and,  as  my  mother 
learned  of  my  pranks,  came  to  dread  interviews  with 
her  alone,  knowing  the  censure  and  reproach  I  would 
receive. 

At  eighteen,  I  was  prepared  for  college.  I  had 
made   excellent   progress    in    both   school    and    street 


10  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

education,  till  I  was  known  as  a  thorough  graduate  In 
each,  though,  as  a  reckless  youth,  I  can  look  back 
and  see  that  I  had  no  desire  for  mean  things,  but  was 
simply  a  wild,  almost  untamed,  colt.  Thus  I  entered 
college  ready  for  any    kind  of  escapade  or    high-time. 

Before  the  end  of  my  course,  I  became  a  lover  and 
drinker  of  wine  and  champagne,  my  connection  with 
secret  fraternities  having  a  more  demoralizing  influ- 
ence than  the  few  saloons  in  the  city.  I  lost  my 
place  in  my  class  and  with  difficulty  succeeded  in 
graduating. 

"My  parents  were  grieved  to  learn,  what  they  should 
have  known  all  of  the  time  with  proper  care,  and  I 
went  home,  reckless  and  dissatisfied  with  every- 
thing. 

During  my  younger  days,  I  had  learned  almost  to 
worship  a  girl  companion  living  near,  gladly  forego- 
ing any  'lark'  with  the  boys,  for  her  company.  About 
the  time  I  went  to  college,  her  parents  moved  to  the 
West,  and  I  had  not  seen  Alice  Wightman  for  over  five 
years. 

My  father  offered  me  a  place  in  his  business,  but  I 
said  I  would  wait;  I  wanted  to  see  the  West.  Accord- 
ingly, I  set  out  for  C,  in  Wisconsin,  whence  I  learned 
the  Wightmans  had  gone.  With  little  difficulty,  I 
found  my  old  friends,  but  the  girl  of  former  days  had 
grown  to  a  beautiful  woman  whom,  if  I  had  once 
worshipped,  I  now  at  once  loved.  The  cordial  recep- 
tion I  received  was  little  less  than  a  son  might  ex- 
pect, and    I  felt    that  the  East  had  few  charms  for 

me. 

On  my  way  out,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  yojng 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  11 

;nan    just   returning    from  college,  and  learned  he  re- 
sided at  C.  and  knew  my  friends. 

The  day  after  arriving  there,  he  called  and  offered 
to  show  me  around  the  city.  We  had  not  gone*  far 
when  we  passed  a  beautiful  building.  I  stopped  to 
look  at  it,  and  dis-covered  a  beer  sign  with  the  words, 
''The  Palace." 

'Let's  go  in  and  have  a  glass,"  said  my  companion. 
"It's  the  finest  saloon  in  the  city." 

I  consented,  and  there  met  several  wealthy  young 
men.  The  room  was  richly  furnished,  with  pictures  on 
the  wall  that  stirred  all  of  the  evil  in  a  young  man.  I 
never  had  seen  such  a  place  in  the  East  and  was  capti- 
vated. After  a  half  hour  in  that  gilded  hell,  we 
Blurted  on  with  the  passions  of  my  whole  being  on 
fire.  On  inquiring  how  many  such  places  the  city  li- 
censed, I  was  told  there  were  over  a  hundred,  paying 
a  large  revenue.  We  found  them  everywhere,  and  my 
old  appetite  clamored  for  drink.  One  after  another 
was  visited,  but  the  vile  stuff  in  no  way  quenched 
my  thirst. 

At  last  I  realized  it  was  night,  and,  with 
half  a  dozen  young  men,  was  in  "The  Palace, "  drink- 
ing, gambling,  and  singing  bacchanalian  songs.  The 
hours  went  by,  while  we  sold  our  manhood  at  that  li- 
censed bar,  growing  wilder  and  drunker.  A  police- 
man waited  near,  whose  duty  it  was,  I  afterward 
learned,  to  see  that  all  of  the  rich,  young  fools  who 
frequented  this  place,  got  safely  home.  Had  we  been 
strangers,  we  would  have  gone  to  the  lockup;  but  a 
hack    was    called  and    one  after    another    was   driven 


12  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

away.  When  it  came  my  turn,  the  policeman  helped 
me  to  my  feet  and    asked    where    I     wanted  to  go. 

"Go?  You  bet,  pard;  hie — I  guess  I'll  go  to  father 
Wi — Wightman's, "  I  managed  to  stammer.  "I'm — 
hie — goin'  to  marry — hie — Miss — Miss — say  pard,  ju 
know    her?" 

"All  right,"  said  my  escort,  "but  she's  too  good 
for  you.  Come  along  j"  and  we  were  soon  driving 
toward  home. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  U 


CHAPTER  III. 


OUR    MANUFACTORIES. 

<'I    will    now  tell   you  the    story,"  continued   High. 
Joe,  after  a  slight  pause,  ''not  as  I  saw  it,  but  largely 
as  related  to  me  by  others:" 

When  the  carriage  reached  the  Wightman  resi- 
dence, the  policeman  was  unable  to  arouse  his  drunken 
charo-e.  Limp  and  unconscious,  he  lay  between  the 
seats,  the  legitimate  product  of  "man's  inhumanity 
to  man,"  which  in  all  of  the  world's  history  never 
made  countless  thousands  mourn  so  long,  so  deep,  so 
hopelessly,  as  through  licensed  rum.  A  light  burned 
brightly  in  the  house  and  the  officer  started  up  the 
walk.  Before  he  reached  the  door,  it  opened  and  a 
man  stepped  out. 

<'Goot  efening,  Meestei  Viteman;"  said  the  former 
In  a  low  voice.  Then  stepping  nearer,  as  the  light 
from  the  window  revealed  his  star,  he  continued:  ''I 
haf  got  von  yoong  mahn  in  the  hack  vich  cannot  help 
hisself. " 

»<Got  what,  did  you  say?"  exclaimed  the 
surprised  nan.  "Who  have  you  in  the  carriage? 
What's  the  matter?" 

"Now  doon't  got  oxcited,  Meester  Viteman,  an 
schpake  so  lout  as  to  vake  de  vim.men.  It  is  only  von 
yoong  mahn  vaht  ish  purtty  drunks.  I  axt  'im  var  he 
vas  schtopping,  and  he  saze  at  'fadder  Viteman's'.  I 
neffer  knowd  nottings  dat  you  haf  got  von  poy,  Meester 
Viteman.     Vaht  schall  ve  do  mit  him?" 


14  niGn  JOE;  or, 

TVithout  a  word,  Mr.  Wigbtman  hastened  down  the 
walk,  followed  by  the  officer  who  lighted  a  match  and 
held  it  over  the  other's  head,  as  he  stood  in  the  car- 
riage door. 

<'Can  it  be  possible?"  said  the  former,  as  though  a 
knife  were  entering  his  side.  '<Ye8,  its  Joseph  Strong. 
Oh,  what  a  falll  How  did  it  happen  Mr.  Kreppel? 
Tell  me  all  you  know." 

»'I  knows  nottings,  Meester  Viteman,  only  dot  he 
haf  peen  trinkin  und  trinkin  mit  der  poys  all  night  in 
der  Palace,  an  I  haf  helpt  von  haaf  doozen  to  der  homes. 
Day  haf  schpent  so  mooch  muny  to-night  ash  I  haf 
ernt  for  der  next  six  moonts  ahlreddy. " 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  drive  him  down  to  a  notel, 
Mr.  Kreppel] .  He  isn't  fit  to  go  into  any  decent  bed. 
I'll  go  with  you  as  soon  as  I  can  get  my  coat." 

'<Dot  ish  so,  iMeester  Viteman.      I  vil  vate  mit  you." 

With  a  hasty  step  the  merchant  entered  his  cheerful 
sitting  room,  and  drawing  on  his  coat,  stepped  to  the 
table  to  turn  down  the  light.  As  he  leaned  over  his 
vacant  chair,  his  eye  caught  the  scripture  which  he 
had  read  Id  his  family  devotions  a  few  hours  before, 
and  lingered  long  enough  to  read  the  words:  "And  a 
certain  Samaritan  as  he  journeyed,  came  where  he  was ; 
and  when  he  saw  him,  he  had  compassion  on  him,  and 
went  to  him  and  bound  up  his  wounds. "  Oft  he  had 
read  that  wonderful  parable,  but  never  had  its  mean- 
ing come  to  him  as  now,  when,  with  the  lightning's 
spood,  the  whole  great  truth  grew  to  a  mighty,  mas- 
tering conviction.  Before  he  reached  the  street,  his 
duty  was  most  clear;  and,  with  a  loyalty  that  marked 
him  in  his  daily  life,  he  acted  promptly,  by  saying: 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  13 

"I  liave  concluded  to  take  him  into  my  own  house, 
Mr.  Kreppel.  He  isn't  my  boy,  but  I"ll  do  just  as 
well  by  him  as  though  he  were. ' ' 

'•Dot  isch  goot,  Meester  Viteman.  Come,  Yahcob, 
und  help  us. " 

A  few  moments  later,  with  the  help  of  the  driver, 
they  carried  the  poor  wreck  up  the  velvet  carpeted 
stairs  to  one  of  the  best  rooms  in  the  house.  Turnincr 
down  the  spreiid  of  a  large,  easy  bed,  Mr.  Wightman 
said.   '-"Well  lay  him  here." 

When  everything  was  done,  he  dismissed  the  two, 
with: 

'•I  vrish  you  would  call  at  Doctor  Bronson's  and  ask 
him  to  come  here  at  once.  Please  say  nothing  about 
this  afiair,  Mr.  Kreppel." 

•'•Xo.  Meester  Vitema:-  I  vill  say  nottings.  I  vos 
sorrow  vor  you,  but  dot  ish  vot  der  lischence  isch  vor; 
eh,  Mobster  Viteman?  OIi  der  poys  all  schtade  to 
home  mit  der  mutter  and  scwester,  der  poor  schloon- 
kceper  an  his  vamilly  voot  schtarve.  Goot  nacht, 
mine  irent. " 

Fortunately  the  wife  and  daup;hter,  after  waitincr 
with  the  father  till  nearly  midnight,  had  retired  and 
dropped  into  a  sound  sleep,  from  which  the  sli:^ht 
noise  had  not  aroused  them.  Hence,  when  left  alone, 
this  m^n  who  had  known  what  it  is  to  love  an  only 
child,  was  given  an  opportunity  to  think. — in  fact, 
was  forced  to  think. — along  a  line  which,  in  the  past, 
he  had  studiously  shunned. 

Sitting  down  by  the  drunken  sleeper,  he  felt  of  his 
pulse  and  then  listened  to  the  heavy  breath  log.  He 
could  not  sit  long,  for,  to  be  quiet  with  the  thoun-lit~ 


Ifl  -  niGH  JOE;  OR, 

then  hurrying  through  bis  brain,  would  be  to  show  a 
dead  heart.  Pacing  restlessly  for  half  an  hour,  while 
the  charging  steed  of  wakened  conscience  bore  him 
on,  he  crossed  at  last,  as  with  a  bound,  the  mighty 
gulf  of  damning  doubt,  of  paralyzing  wilfulness,  o'er 
which  he  had  refused  to  gaze  or  cross  in  all  the  past, 
and  now  stood  on  the  everlasting  rock  of  conscious 
right,  of  loyal  homage  to  conviction.  Within  his 
heart  there  grew  a  new.  fi  jof^us  peace,  a  change,  a 
something  strange  but  sweeter  than  all  songs  of  eaith, 
except  the  shepherd's  sonp^  upon  the  plains  of  Beth- 
lehem. 

At  last  he  heard  a  step  along  the  walk,  and  hurried 
down,  with  this  outreaching  oi  the  soul  upon  his  lips: 

"OGod!  I  thank  Thee,  that,  where  I  was  blind,  I 
now  see  clearly." 

Meeting  the  doctor  outside,  he  said: 

"Come  in  quietly  and  follow  me 

There  was  something  about  his  voice  that  pre* 
vented  the  physician  saying,  as  usual: 

< 'What's  the  matter  now?" 

Motioning  him  to  a  chair  in  the  sitting-room,  Mr, 
Wightman  began: 

"Doctor,  you  remember  how  I  worked  with  you  for 
high  license  last  spring?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  remember  now  provoked  we  got  with 
those  'cranks'  who  wouldn't  vote  with  us,  but  insist- 
ed on  prohibition  when  they  knew  ohere  wasn't  a 
ghost  of  a  show  to  carry  it?" 

"Yes." 

"And  how  we  carried  it  by  only  two  votes?" 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  17 

"Yes." 

"And  that  we  now  have  one  hundred  saloons,  li- 
censed and  legalized  by  our  two  votes?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that.  Is  that  all  you've 
called  me  for  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"No,  sir,  there's  business  on  hand;  but  it  can  wait 
till  you  answer  my  question.  Didn't  we,  as  Chris- 
tian voters,  cast  the  two  deciding  votes?" 

"Well,  I  guess  they  wouldn't  have  won  without  our 
help. " 

"Then  you  admit  that  we  helped?" 

"Yes.  I  guess  so. " 

"And  every  fellow  who  voted  our  ticket  helped?" 

"It  looks  pretty  strong  that  way. " 

"Then  those  one  hundred  saloons  are  our  legalized 
manufactories,  aren't  they?" 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  you  are  after.  Do  you 
want  me  to  admit  that  I've  taken  at  least  one  share 
of  stock  in  Hell,  while  claiming  to  invest  only  in 
Earth  and  Heaven?" 

"I  only  tvant  you  to  answer  my  question,  doctor. 
Aren't — those — our — manufactories?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  they  are;  and  I  begin  to  smell 
brimstone  already.  What  next,  old  man?  You'd 
make  a  capital  surgeon. " 

Hastily  telling  the  doctor  about  the  son  of  his  old 
friend,  who  had  just  graduated  from  college  and 
come  west  to  see  them,  and  how  manly  he  looked 
when  he  left  in  the  morning,  he  concluded  by  saying: 

"And  now,  doctor, .  I'm  ready  for  business.      Follow 
me." 
2 


18  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Reaching  the  slightly  open  door,  he  paused,  and, 
placing  his  hand  on  the  physician's  shoulder,  said  sol- 
emnly: 

"In  the  presence  of  the  All-seeing  eye  and  before 
Him  of  whom  it  has  been  said,  'Shall  not  the  judge 
of  all  the  earth  do  right?'  I  want  to  show  you  the 
first  real  product  of  our  manufactories^  that  has  come 
to  darken  and  sadden  my  home.     Come  in.  *' 

With  his  arm  through  the  doctor's,  the  two  en- 
tered, going  directly  to  the  bedside.  Already,  na- 
tiire,  in  her  revolt  against  man's  prostitution  and 
pollution  of  his  divine  made  temple,  had  begun  the 
work  of  cleansing;  and,  smeared  over  the  white  pil- 
lows and  the  cream  tinted  coverlid,  was  the  first  "up 
Bhipment"  of  the  blighting  cargo. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  he  continued,  pointing 
with  outstretched  arm  toward  the  prostrate  "drimk:" 

"There  doctor,  right  there  is  our  first,  real,  tangi- 
ble product.  I  don't  know  how  many  more  are  scat- 
tered around  in  the  city  or  farther  away,  darkening 
and  blighting  other  homes,  while  we  make  no  attempt 
to  care  for  them.  We  haven't  kept  any  books  if  we 
could ;  but  the  archives  of  Heaven  have  every  one 
charcred  against  us ; — the  full  account  doctor,  for  each 
victim,  and  against  each  who  voted  for  the  cursed 
traffic.  Doctor,  that  young  man  is  the  son  of  a  friend  ; 
and  I  helped  to  lay  the  trap  for  him,  then  sent  glow- 
ing accounts  of  the  West,  all  over  the  East,  to  lure 
her  bovs  hither.  How  many  have  come  and  been 
ruined,  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  do  know,  that  the  fires 
of  Hell,  whether  kindled  here  or  hereafter,    can   only 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  19 

burn  as  they  have  human  bodies  and  heaven-born 
souls  to  feed  upon." 

Then  turning  and  facing  his  companion,  he  added, 
while  his  voice  almost  failed  him : 

"Doctor  Bronson,  may  God  forgive  me  for  the  past. 
Standing  beside  this  prostrate,  senseless  man, with- 
in whose  body  even  now  is  surging  on  the  burning, 
scalding,  licensed  fire,  and  hunting  to  the  last  dark 
recess  of  his  frame  each  torn  and  broken  shred 
of    flesh    and    nerve,   lest    some   weak,    undiscovered 

chain    shall    bind    him    yet   to   manhood, I    swear, 

that  never  more  by  voice  or  vote  will  I  sanc- 
tion or  make  possible  one  law-protected  vender 
of  strong  drink.  I'm  done;  and  now  my  part  shall 
be  to  build  the  broken  walls  and  drive  the  en- 
emy from  our  midst.      Will  you  go  with  me?" 

''I'm  with  you,  Paul  Wightman.  I  see  the  light. 
Drive  on,"  came  the  hearty  response,  as  the  physician 
grasped  the  outstretched  hand  of  his  friend. 
Then  reaching  down,  he  felt  the  pulse  of  the  un- 
conscious victim.  'Twas  but  an  instant,  then  he 
spoke : 

"Paul,  bring  the  light.  His  pulse  is  very  weak. 
Be  quick." 


20  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  IV. 


"PRACTICAL   METHODS       APPLIED. 

Paul  Wightman  hurried  to  the  bedside,  as  re- 
quested. It  required  but  a  glance  to  show  the  ef- 
fect which  the  poisonous  drink  was  having  on  its 
victim.  His  face  was  already  bloated  and  dark,  his 
lips  and  tongue  parched  and  swollen  till  the  latter 
protruded  from  his  mouth,  and,  with  the  irregular, 
labored  breathing,  showed  the  lack  of  heart  action. 

'  'His  limbs  and  arms  are  already  rigid, ' '  said 
the  doctor  as  he  administered  a  hastily  prepared 
antidote.  '-The  vile  stuff  was  probably  a  mixture 
of  poisons,  and  may  cost  this  young  man  his  life.  It 
only  proves  what  those  prohibitionists  have  been 
preaching  so  forcibly,  that  when  you  once  give  men  a 
license,  no  matter  how  high  the  price,  they'll  violate 
every  law  of  God  and  man;  and  when  we  license  them 
we  l^noio  they'll  do  it.  Paul  Wightman,  I  now  see 
that  we  deliberately  sanction  all  that  naturally  follows 
our  permission." 

The  doctor  had  risen  and  was  watching  the  effect  of 
his  medicine.  Not  satisfied,  he  repeated  the  dose; 
then,  feeling  the  pulse  strengthen  and  the  respir- 
ation grow  more  regular,  he  sat  down  to  watch. 

The  merchant  could  not  have  been  much  more  anx- 
ious, had  the  battling  body  been  his  own  son.  When  re- 
lieved by  assurance  of  improvement,  he  said : 

"Doctor,    if    any    man    were    to    say  that    that  boy 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  21 

came  west    and    fell    among   thieves,    who    would  that 
include the  sellers,  or  others  with  them?" 

••Mr.  "Wightman,  had  any  one    asked  me  that  ques- 
tion twenty-four  hours  ago,     with    all    that  it  insin- 
uates, I  would  have  resented    it  with  no  small  anger. 
I  am  now  frank  to  say,  that  the  voters  of  this  city — 
ourselves  among    them— are    an    organized    gang  of 
thieves,     robbers,    murderers,    wife-beaters,     orphan- 
makers,      drunkard-breeders,      soul-destroyers,     fully 
sanctioned  and  upheld  by  law.      We  demand  our  share 
of  the  money  extorted  from    the  victims  of  these  one 
hundred    dens — our    dens — and    put    it    into    street- 
paving,  water  works,  public    buildings,     or  pay  it  to 
officers.      Then  we  march    forth    with    a  steady  step, 
while  our  victims  stagger  along  the  grand  high- ways, 
till  they  either  fall    into    the    gutters  or  are  hurried 
off  to  the  lock-up,    only    to    be    bled    again  the  next 
morning  in    our    courts.      We    drink    the  life-giving 
water  from    our    artesian    wells,     while    our  victims 
drink  the  burning,  blighting  dregs  of  hell,  dispensed 
by  our  agents — the  ones  appointed  by  our  gang  to  do 
our  work.     We  build    costly    city-halls,    court-houses 
and  capitols,  while  the  victims  of  our  greed  with  their 
families,  live  in    hovels.      We    pay    good    salaries  to 
officials,    nominated  and  elected    to    do    the  saloons' 
bidding,  while  the  men  who    pay    their  wages  to  the 
licensed  bars,  are  in  rags  and  poverty. ' ' 

Just  t^en  the  unconscious  man  sat  up,  and  before 
a  dish  could  be  brought,  delivered  the  second  con- 
sio-oment  of  --wet  goods"  *all  over  the  bed  and  beyond 
upon  the  rich  carpet.  The  doctor  arrived  within 
range    just    in    time    to    become    the    target    for  the 


22  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

next  upheaval,  which  caused  him  quickly  to  retire  a 
safe  distance,  while  the  battery  recoiled  and  collapsed 
with  a  groan. 

With  all  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation,  Paul 
Wightman  could  not  smother  a  laugh  at  the  doctor's 
sudden  repulse  and  dilapidated  condition. 

<<I  am  surprised,  doctor,"  he  remarked,  as  his  sides 
shook  with  suppressed  mirth;  *'I  never  saw  you 
retreat  before." 

''No,  Paul,"  was  the  response,  and  you  never  saw 
me  face  such  a  'weep-on. 

The  one  who  had  caused  this  sudden  change  from 
seriousness  to  mirth,  relapsed  again  into  unconscious- 
ness. With  some  caution,  Mr.  Wightman  approached 
while  the  doctor  underwent  repairs.  The  truce,  how- 
ever, lasted  only  a  few  moments,  for,  when  the 
physician  resumed  his  place,  the  pulse  and  breathing 
were  unsatisfactory,  and  he  administered  another 
dose.  Scarcely  had  it  struck  bottom  ere  it  returned, 
chased  by  the  fiery  demons,  who,  in  trying  to  cast 
out  their  destroyer,  were  themselves  cast  out. 

Ere  long,  nature  had  so  far  cleansed  the  stygian 
pool,  that  the  outward  ravings  ceased;  but  who  or 
what  could  stay  the  coursing  fire  within? 

The  clock  ticked  on.  The  hours  went  by,  unheeded 
by  these  two  strong  men,  who  spent  the  time  either 
In  moralizing  on  their  part  in  this  dark  deed,  or 
ministering  to  the  silent  sleeper. 

At  last  a  new  day  dawned — new  in  a  stropger 
sense  than  either  man  had  ever  known;  and,  as  o'er 
the  lake  outspread,  a  glassy  miT-ror  to  the  east,  th* 
Bun  arose,  both  walked  in  silence  to  the  window. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  23 

They  looked  abroad,  through  new  eyes,  on  a 
grander  world  of  life  and  hope,  death  and  despair, 
strangely  commingled,  than  they  had  ever  seen 
before.  To  say  that  they  were  "bom  anew"  and 
passed  from  hearts  of  stone,  from  lives  of  careless, 
willful  blindness,  into  a  life  of  burning  love,  of  care- 
ful, sacrificing  thought  for  all  the  weak  and  fallen, 
would  be  but  faintly  to  describe  the  new,  strange 
peace  they  felt  within,  of  purposes  all  harmonized 
with  God's  great  monitor  of  truth  and  right,  the 
conscience;  aye,  more,  the  sanction  of  the  messenger 
of  grace  to  men. 

<'I'll  go,  now,"  said  the  doctor,  the  first  to  speak. 
««I  think  he  is  past  danger,  and  may  sleep  all  day. 
You  watch  him  and  I'll  call  by  noon.  Nature  will 
need  time  to  remedy  our  brutal  agent's  onslaught. 
She's  working  well." 

With  scarce  a  word,  Paul  Wightman  pressed  his 
hand  as  he  prepared  to  go;  then  held  him  at  the  door 
bo  say: 

**Stop  in  at  Brother  Bliss',  and  ask  him  to  come 
op  as  soon  as  possible.     G-ood  by." 

A  stir  was  heard  within  the  hall,  a  moment  later, 
*nd  the  merchant  met  his  wife  outside  the  door. 
Placing  his  arm  through  hers,  they  quietly  descended, 
ihe  waiting  for  the  story  that  she  knew  lurked 
back  of  his  tired  eyes  and  troubled  look.  He  hesi- 
tated but  a  moment,  when  they  reached  the  easy 
chairs  still  standing  close  together  as  when,  on  the  pre- 
rious  eve,  the  courtship  of  the  lover  husband  and  the 
Moving  wife  had  closed.     The    mutual  confidence  was 


24  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

taken  up  where  it  had  ended,  and  soon  the  thrilling 
tale  was  told. 

A  step  outside  ended  the  converse,  and  the  pastor 
was  ushered  in,  while  Mrs.  Wightman  went  to  act  as 
watcher. 

"Brother  Bliss,"  the  merchant  began,  with- 
out answering  the  minister's  questioning  look, 
"I've  been  thinking  of  those  three  sermons  which  you 
preached  just  before  election,  last  spring.  Do  you 
remember  them?" 

"Oh  yes;  I  remember  them  well.  Some  thought 
they  won  enough  votes  to  turn  the  election  for  prac- 
tical license  as  against  the  Utopian  scheme  of  prohi- 
bition. " 

"I  guess  that's  so.  At  least  they  strengthened  and 
nerved  me  for  vigorous  work.  I  can  remember  the  texts 
to-day.  The  first  was  Paul's  advice  to  Timothy  to  'take 
a  little  wine  for  the  stomach's  sake.'  The  next  was 
Christ's  making  wine  from  water.  And  the  last  was 
the  verse  containing  the  words,  'and  wine  that  maketh 
glad  the  heart  of  man. '  You  remember  that  the 
chief  point  in  each  sermon  was  that  the  evil  is  not  in 
the  use  but  in  the  abuse  of  drink.  You  also 
insisted  that  there  was  no  sanction  in  the  Bible  for 
prohibition,  but  simply  temperance  in  all  things." 

"I  remember  them  well,  for  they  cost  me  much 
study.  I  really  felt  commisioned  to  deliver  such  a 
broadside  as  would  demolish  those  misguided  fanatics, 
and  enable  us  to  apply  practical  methods  to  a  great 
question." 

"That's  so.  Brother  Bliss,"  said  the  merchant 
rising,     "practical     methods     to    a    great    question. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  25 

Those  TQCthods  have    been    applied,  and  I  thought  you 
Avould  enjoy  a  study  of  the  results.      Come  with  me." 

With  his  arm  through  this  misguiding  pastor's, 
]*aul  Wightman  led  him  aloft.  The  wife  had  slipped 
out,  and  the  two  approached  the  scene  of  nature's 
struggle,  with  no  other  eyes  or  ears  to  witness. 

'Twas  a  strange  picture  that  arrested  the  curious 
eye  of  the  minister,  anc  his  esthetical  nature  was 
shocked  at  the  pollution.  The  unconscious  face,  still 
red  and  bloated,  turned  toward  them  on  the  smeared 
pillow.  Stopping  in  full  view  of  the  surroundings, 
the  merchant  said: 

'•There,  Brother  diss,  is  the  application  of  prac- 
tical methods  to  a  great  question,  ^\e  have  one 
hundred  places  that  are  applying  these  practical 
methods,  and  they  pay  the  city  a  good  fee  for  the 
privilege.  The  practical  methods  wouldn't  be  so  bad  if 
you  could  apply  them  directly  to  the  question,  but  boys 
have  to  be  used  as  connecting  links.  The  links  aren't 
worth  much  when  the  experiment  is  finished.  But 
instead  of  applying  your  practical  methods,  suppose 
we  apply  your  sermons.  Folio wiug  your  advice,  my 
pastor,  he  took  a  little  wine  for  the  stomach's  sake. 
He  couldn't  find  any  made  of  water  and  so  had  to 
take  the  next  best — our  licensed  saloon-keeper's 
poisonous  decoctions.  You  see  how  glad  it  made  the 
heart  of  man.  He's  having  a  grand  jollification  now, 
you  see — mighty  glad  heart — but  it  came  near  stop- 
ping forever.  Only  the  doctor's  antidote  saved  the 
poor  boy.  Brother  Bliss,  what  do  you  think  of  your 
•theology  and  its  practical  methods?  Isn't  there  a 
screw  loose  somewhere?" 


26  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

The  minister  hesitated.  His  face  was  a  study. 
New  thoughts  were  evidently  struggling  for  mastery. 
Before  he  could  decide  on  an  answer,  the  sleeper's 
arms  were  thrown  wildly  about,  ais  lips  parted  in  a 
cry  of  pain,  his  eyes  opened  with  a  look  of  terrible 
fear,  and,  with  a  scream,  he  sprang  from  the  bed. 


TEE  LOGGERS  STORY, 


CHAPTER  V. 


A  LIQUOR  MANIAC. 

A  glance  at  the  erect  form  and  glaring  eyes  before 
them,  told  that  reason  was  dethroned  and  a  demon  in 
control.  With  a  spring,  he  attempted  to  fly  from  the 
fiom  the  room,  but  Mr.  Wightman  caught  him  with  a 
firm  grasp.  Before  the  minister  could  come  to  his 
assistance,  the  wild  man  turned,  with  uncontrolled 
fury,  and  struck  this  true  Samaritan  a  blow  such  as 
only  a  giant  could  deal.  The  blood  spurted  from  his 
nose  and  mouth,  and  he  reeled  backward,  falling  upon 
the  bed,  stunned  but  not  unconscious.  With  a  bound, 
the  minister  threw  his  arms  around  the  maniac,  pin- 
ioning  him.  Immediately  a  struggle  began.  Al- 
though the  former  was  a  strong  man,  he  could  not 
long  withstand  the  wild  frenzy  and  powerful  muscles 
of  his  adversary;  and,  a  moment  later,  was  pitched 
headlong,  receiving,  as  he  went,  a  full  broadside  on 
the  ear. 

The  madman  again  sprang  toward  the  door,  but 
not  in  time  to  prevent  the  merchant,  who  had  rallied, 
from  fastening  his  strong  arms  around  him.  Had 
not  thvj  minister  come  to  his  friend's  assistance,  the 
outcome  would  not  have  remained  long  in  doubt.  For 
only  a  moment  the  severe  struggle  lasted;  then  the 
wild  man  was  overpowered,  but  not  till  each  bore 
severe  marks  of  the  conflict  with  rum's  victim. 

Though  deprived  of  power  to  control  the  body,  the 
demoniacal  spirit  swayed  the  tongue  as  in  olden  times. 


28  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

and  screams,  oaths  and  cursings  followed  in  such 
quick  succession  and  wild  fury  as  to  vividly  portray 
the  Hell  of  tortured  souls.  Until  the  doctor  arrived, 
no  power  could  stop  the  unbound  demon ;  and  he  raved 
un,  so  wild,  so  wicked,  so  scorching  in  his  fiery  blas- 
phemies, that  the  two  men  shrank  back  with  faces 
white,  excepting  where  the  blood  was  gathering,  as 
though  to  utter  its  strong  protest  and  learn  what  en- 
emy had  made  so  fierce  an  attack.  Ever  and  anon, 
with  a  wilder,  louder  shriek,  the  crazy  fellow  tried  to 
spring  up,  and  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  his  fet- 
ter-cords would  hold  him. 

At  last  the  doctor  came,  administered  an  opiate, 
and  the  fiend  incarnate  ceased  his  outward  demon- 
strations, because  he  had  neither  tongue  nor  body  he 
could  sway. 

'Twas  fearful  still  to  view,  as  the  frenzied  frame, 
under  the  strong  medicine,  began  to  sink  and  mutter 
or  rave  incoherently,  the  eyes  rolling  wildly  about 
and  the  hands  clutching  at  unseen  specters.  At 
length,  all  was  still ;  and  as  the  doctor  turned  his  at- 
tention to  the  wounded,  they  asked  the  cause  of 
such  a  sudden  change. 

"'Twas  only  the  alcohol  and  other  poisons  com- 
bined, attacking  the  brain  as  we  drove  them  from 
the  body,"  said  the  physician.  "I  think  you  must 
have  doubled  the  doses.  I  presume  he  drank  enough 
alcohol  alone  to  have  produced  some  fearful  results, 
but  the  vile  poisons  which  our  licensed  men  of  'good 
moral  character'  mix,  would  give  the  Devil  himself  a 
touch  of  tbe  '  tremens'  were  he  fool  enough  to  drink 
them.      Too    wise    for    that,    he    goes  about    getting 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  29 

Christian  voters  to  license  his  royal  henchmen  to  dis- 
pense the  damning  stuff  to  thoughtless,  weak  or  evil 
men,  and  unprotected  boys.  Eh,  brother  Bliss?  Some 
of  us,  especially  ministers  and  deacons,  value  our- 
selves pretty  high  and  demand  a  good,  round  price, 
before  we  consent  to  become  partners  with  his  royal 
Inferno.  Then  he  asks  us  to  send  around  our  boys, 
our  neighbor's  boys,  or  a  few  hundred  poor,  uned- 
ucated foreigners  to  pay  the  bills.  Money  isn't 
enough  to  wipe  out  the  debt ;  it  takes  bodies  and 
souls,  and  will,  so  long  as  we  demand  a  share  of  the 
profits.      Comes  pretty  high,  brother  Bliss?" 

"  Brethren, "  answered  the  pastor,  "  there  Is  too 
much  crowded  into  the  last  hour  for  me  to  digest  at 
once.  I  think  I  have  undergone  pretty  heroic  treats 
ment,  but  the  diseased  condition,  perhaps,  needed  it. 
My  feelings  indicate  a  change,  and  if  you'll  have  pa- 
tience, I  may  be  '  clothed'  and  in  my  <  right  mind'  in 
twentv-four  hours.  I  thank  you,  my  good  brother, 
for  inviting  me  here;"  and  he  grasped  the  merchant'3 
hand. 

As  this  Christian  minister,  who  had  been  a  power 
to  the  license  cause  in  his  city,  walked  forth  into  the 
sunlisrht,  he  carried  a  "peeled"  nose  and  a  bruised, 
swollen,  and  ringing  ear,  the  result  of  his  first  en- 
counter with  the  other  end  of  the  liquor  problem 
from  the  one  he  had  before  dandled  and  fondled  with- 
out thought  of  harm.  He  indulged  in  thoughts  as 
new  and  strange  as  those  in  which  the  merchant  and 
the  doctor  had  reveled  a  few  hours  before.  The  cas- 
tle of  his  heart  had  been  in  a  state  of  siege  for  years, 
with  conscience  asking  unconditional    surrender;  but 


30  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

he  had  stubbornly  closed  his  ears,  and  given  aid  and 
comfort  to  the  foe.  Not  till  the  very  enemy  he  had 
succored,  turned  and  rent  him,  did  he  discover  how 
terrible  was  the  viper  he  had  helped  to  warm  and 
feed.  With  such  thoughts,  it  is  not  strange  that  he 
should  fail  to  note  the  curious  gaze  of  passers,  as  he 
strode  along. 

For  hours  the  doctor  and  merchant  watched  the 
patient. 

Alice  Wightman,  in  a  distant  room,  had  not  been 
aware  of  the  events  already  narrated,  and  her  parents 
thought  it  best  to  simply  say  that  Joseph  Strong  was 
•  very  sick;  hence,  as  the  day  passed,  she  anxiously  in- 
quired how  he  progressed. 

After  hours  of  careful  treatment,  the  doctor  dis- 
covered symptoms  of  returDing  consciousness;  and  in 
the  evening,  a  pair  of  swollen,  bloodshot  eyes  opened 
in  a  bewildered  way  and  looked  about.  The  good 
pliysician  understood  that  look,  and  spoke  cheerily 
saying: 

"How  do  you  feel?     Had  a  hard  time,  haven't  you?" 

The  young  man  made  no  answer,  but  seemed  try- 
ing to  gather  his  scattered  memory.      Finally  he  said: 

"What  has  happened  and  where  am  I?" 

"Oh,  you're  among  friends',"  was  the  cheery  answer. 
"Just  keep  still  and  you'll  be  all  right  soon.  Mr. 
Wightman  will  return  in  half  an  hour  and  then  I'll  go. 
You've  been  pretty  sick.  " 

At  the  name  of  Mr.  Wightman,  the  whole  truth 
dawned  upon  him,  and  the  sweep  of  inward  pain  was 
clearly  seen  on  his  face.     Then  he  asked : 

"Are  you  the  doctor?" 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  81 

"I'm  the  man, "  was  the  reply. 

•*And  am  I  here,  sleeping  off  a  drunk?" 

"Guess  that's  about  it.  You  came  near  dying  from 
the  stuff  you  got  in  the  *  Palace. '  But  say  no  more. 
Alice  Wightman  doesn't  know  it  and  the  rest  of  us  be- 
lieve you  were  unused. to  such  poisons.  You'll  know 
better  hereafter. " 

The  hands  of  the  troubled  fellow  swung  restlessly 
over  the  bed,  only  to  discover  his  condition  and  thereby 
Increase  his  pain. 

""Oh,  what  a  disgrace,  what  a  disgrace  1"  he  mur- 
mured.     "Whut  will  they  think  of  me?" 

"We  are  srrry  for  you  and  condemn  ourselves  for 
licensing  surlj  a  place, "  answered  the  doctor.  "Now 
rest  and  be  ;;  >-irself  once  more.  I'll  see  you  in  the 
morning. " 

*         •         • 

With  &  p;  'se,  High  Joe  looked  around,  saying; 

"Getiinfr    ired  boys  and  want  me  to  stop?" 

"Beo-or'-o^  no,"  answered  Pat  Kinney. 

"  It  eze  '.ike  ze  story  of  ze  great  novelle, "  exclaimed 
the  iijjDf.Vious  Frenchman.  "We  want  ze  rest;  go 
on. 

**Go  r.v  Joe, "  said  the  Colonel ;  "  it  isn't  late.  We 
are  greu  V.y  interested.  " 

"i'l.llr'ght  then,  you  shall  have  it,"  and  he  contin- 
ned: 

"It  '-as  some  days  before  I  got  around,  and  T  felt 
Bshara?d  to  meet  any  one;  but  no  parents  could  have 
treater*  me  more  like  a  son.  No  word  was  spoken  of 
the  events  of  that  night  and  day.  They  faded  into  the 
pa&t  p-nd  I  kept  away  from  the  saloons.     My  first  vent- 


32  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

ure  out  was  to  attend  church  the  next  Sabbath  with 
Alice  and  her  parents.  The  confidence  of  the  latter  in 
my  integrity  was  not  shaken,  and  all  was  hearty 
friendship.  In  fact,  my  fall  was  too  lightly  passed 
over;  but  I  subsequently  learned  that  it  was  due  to  the 
feelings  of  condemnation  which  my  friends  felt  for 
themselves,  and  the  belief  that  I  had  been  the  thought- 
less victim  of  poisoned  drinks.  They  little  dreamed 
of  the  thirst  that  haunted   me    day   and   night. 

The  good  pastor  Bliss,  took  'Blind  Bartimeus'  as  his 
subject,  and  preached  the  first  clear,  emphatic  sermon 
I  had  ever  heard,  on  our  blindness  and  complicity,  in 
licensing  the  liquor-evil  and  giving  it  legal  sanction. 
'Twas  almost  painful,  as  he  confessed  his  own  infidel- 
ity and  blindness, — a  'traitor  shepherd,'  as  he  called 
himself;  but  his  courage  and  heroism  inspired  me 
with  the  greatest  respect  I  had  ever  had  for  ministers. 
I  had  listened  to  many  'goody,  goody'  sermons  on  the 
evils  of  intemperance,  but  they  affected  me  about  as 
soup  without  salt  would — a  little  nauseating — for  I 
knew  the  evils  better  than  the  speakers  did.  I  knew 
also  that  we  wild,  young  fellows  and  the  poor  inebri- 
ates needed  not  to  be  told  how  wrong  drinking  is,  or 
the  evils  of  the  drink  traffic,  but  that  it  was  the  well- 
dressed,  prosperous  men  and  women, — church  mem- 
bers and  all, — who  listened,  that  needed  arousing, 
even  the  ministers  themselves.  As  the  pastor  came  to 
his  conversion,  he  pointed  to  his  scars  and  exclaimed: 

"  Brethren,  I  praise  God  today  that  these  scars  will 
heal  quickly  and  that  the  fire  of  hell  is  not  wandering 
through  my  frame,  burning  away .  every  fortress  of 
righteousness  and  conscience;  but  \\liat,  oh  what,  can 


TBE   lOOGEB'S  ST0B7. 


ss 


^e  say  of  our  victims  ^ho  are  numbered  by  the  hun- 
dreds  and  perhaps  thousands?  Henceforth  I  am  free, 
and  my  voice  shall  not  be  hushed  by  a  license  sop, 
no  matter  how  high.  The  Almighty  says,  'woe,  woe 
woe  to  him  that  putteth  the  bottle  to  his  neighbors 
lips  •  I  am  done  with  it,  but  my  work  is  only  begun 
1  hope  that  every  one  who  has  named  the  Chnst  of 
Galilee  as  his  redeemer,  will  join  wit^h  me,  and,  wUb 
faithful  hands   rescue  the   perishing  by  banishing  the 

'TcLlottell  the  feeling  as  he  closed.  Dark  looks  and 
frowns  were  spread  o'er  many  faces  as  they  hurried 
from  the  church,  while  others  gathered  round  the  pastor 
to  tell  how  they  had  been  strengthened.  As  I  went 
down  the  steps  with  Alice  Wightman,  her  heart  still 
warm  with  the  emotions  stirred,  there  burned  within 
mine  only  one  consuming  flame,  the  scorpion  stmg, 
crying  for  drink.  , 

A  portly  man  only  a  step  ahead,    said  to  a  friend: 
"I'll  make  that   fool    repent    his   sermon    ere    the 
summer  passes.     He  evidently   let   sentiment  run  off 
with  his  '  bread  and  butter. 

Had  I  been  alone,  I  might  have  struck  the  villain, 
I  was  so  enraged;  but,  with  the  consuming  fire  with- 
in to  quell,  I  passed  along,  the  world  not  knowing 
what  my  breast  contained,  and  I  not  knowing  how 
far  the  barriers  of  manhood  had  been  bumed  away 
or  whither  I  should  drift 
8 


34  HIGH  JOE;  OB^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 


SLAVER   AND    SLAVES. 

After  walking  a  short  distance  in  silence,  I  said  to 
Alice : 

"Who  is  that  angry  fellow?  He  walks  like  a 
lord. " 

"  They  call  him  the  '  Boss, '  "  was  her  reply.  "  He 
owns  The  Herald,  the  leading  newspaper,  and  is  also 
the  proprietor  of  'The  Palace,'  the  most  richly 
equipped  but  worst  saloon  in  the  city." 

"Ah,  I  understand.      That  explains  his    remarks." 

"Yes,  and  he  owns  the  men  who  want  office,  by 
reason  of  the  power  he  possesses  through  his  press 
and  bar.  He  owns  the  men  who  want  drink,  because 
he  purchases  their  manhood  when  they  begin  patron, 
izing  his  saloon.  He  votes  the  latter  for  the  former 
so  as  to  elect  them;  and  then  he  uses  the  former  to 
help  enslave  and  rob  the  latter.  Two  sets  of  abject 
slaves — nay,  puppets.  He  plays  both.  Then  he  goes 
to  church  on  Sunday,  rents  a  good  pew,  pays  liber- 
ally, silences  the  preacher,  enlists  the  deacons  and 
other  voters  by  their  love  of  party,  till  saint  and 
sinner,  washed  and  unwashed,  church  member  and 
saloon  bummer,  business  man  and  pauper,  good  lord 
and  good  devil,  are  all  wild  in  the  mad  race  of  poli- 
tics, each  vieing  with  the  other  to  see  who  can  do  the 
best  service  for  the  'Boss'  and  his  party." 

I  l^ooked  up,  surprised  at  such  an  arraignment  from 
the  lips  of  my  fair  companion,  but  she  continued; 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  » 

..you'll  see  something  interesting   i°   *°-'°°"°^'' 

T    •      „;.»      The  eood   pastor   will   catch   it. 

paper,  I   imagine      The  g°       P  ^^^,ui„„ 

Perhaps  the  .BO.   ^^^  ^^ll^or   will   be   the  next 
St?    .T'lrLr  surprise  to  him   If  Ms  here^- 

LtthinU,  Toseph  Strong,  ^^^^^^J^^^/V  S 

sacrifice  may  come  yet.     ^'^'^J'^''      J^  ,bat  man 
before     With  the  attempt  to  tell  you  wa 

-:rt:\Tattlrtlr:^:s 

,er.     I  couW  not   d^sreg        ^^^^^  ^^^  ^.^^^^  ^^^^^^ 
to  assist  him.     beeing  ^^  ^j^,,^ 

MS  getting  home  ^^^  '^  ^^^^turprised  and  curious, 
I  went  with  him.     She  looke  v  ^^^    ^ 

as   we    marched    away,  arm    in    arm,  du 
:  ,r-e  fellow-feeling  for  the   -f-'^-f  ^J"^^"  ^  ^^^ 
he  gr'umbled  and  swore  or  tried  to  get   away.  I  saw 


^  BIQB  JOE;  OR, 


be  was  in  no  pleasant  mood     but   h„n„ 
-ached  his  house  and  mounted    he  poHsL""'  •? 
^leps.     He  tried  the   front  door   but  f  ^''"' 

This  angered  him  and  he  ^ave  it  .   .      •/''   '"'^""^- 
•   soon  broughl  assistance    afdthldn        "^°  "°'-     " 
ing  a  beautiful,  riehl/drerefrm":^  °^"^''  ''''''■ 

-;fe';et::;:itrt:w:re;-^- 
-ermrti:;t-:L?L*,£et'r^^"'r^ 

.-gs  were   evidently    intensifieT  by   h U  IX'    f  " 
voice,  containino-  a*?  if  ^,-^        ,.      ^  ^  ^    ^^^ 

AS  he  steppedler  ^th°  erjo"  "Te"  "'^T^^*^- 
clinched  fist,  and,  before  I  eS  hi,""  '" 
struck  his  wife  a  terrible  blow  n  the  fa  '7T' 
smothered  groan  she  fell    ot.it-       u      ,  ^'"^  ^ 

richly  carpfted  stairs      '         '"^  '^^  "^^^^  "?-  '^a 

sisttr'^ihTbitt:  °'rT'  ^  ^^^^^^^  '^  ^^^  - 

but  also   InctLirrrer'^NS^"'  ^"^r^"' 
"I'll  n  T^r>.  ..  ,  '^^ofc^i^-      v\  1th    an    oath  and 

Th,  „.,  „„ .,.  -xt'p ;,",-  :'r.':  * 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  37 

form  to  a  large  sofa  in  the  sitting-room,  telling  the 
child  to  send  for  a  doctor  quickly.  She  hurried  out 
w'ith  a  white  face,  while  I  reached  a  pitcher  of  ice- 
water  with  the  hope  of  restoring  consciousness. 

As  a  messenger  was  dispatched,  the  child  returned 
with  a  look  of  despair  such  as  childhood  seldom 
wears.  I  could  see  that  she  thought  her  mother 
was  dead,  and  reassured  her  by  saying: 

"She  is  stunned,  my  dear,  but  I  hope  not  seriously 
hurt. " 

"Oh,  isn't  she  killed?"  burst  from  the  pale  lips, 
while  great,  lustrous  eyes,  revealing  a  wonderful 
Boul  within,  spoke  volumes  of  fear. 

"No,"  I  answered,  moving  my  moist  hand  over  the 
still  brow;   "she'll  be  better  soon." 

"A  girl  brought  restoratives,  but  we  labored  with- 
out avail.  Then  the  doctor  came  and  I  surrendered 
my  charge,  going  in  search  of  the  husband  whom 
I  found  in  a  drunken  sleep.  What  a  picture!  The 
brightest  lawyer  in  the  city,  of  large  culture,  ex^ 
cellent  business  ability,  and  fine  physique,  stranded 
in  the  cursed  stupor  of  alcohol,  a  shame  to  himself, 
a  disgrace  and  terror  to  his  wife  and  child,  a  loss  to 
his  city,  his  state  and  the  nation,  a  slave  to  rum,  a 
wrecked  soul.  There  he  lay,  stretched  at  midday 
upon  his  own  parlor  floor,  helpless,  physically,  men- 
tally, morally;  and  all  by  the  deliberate  sanction  of 
sovereign,  civilized,  Christian  men,  who,  in  turn  for 
such  betrayal,  were  receiving,  Judas-like,  a  few 
hundred  dollars  of  the  blood  money.  Think  of  it,  ye 
gods  and  spirits  of  justice;  a  human  being  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  sold  to  the  blackest  bondage,  the 


38  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

ii::  =  t  i:^-'^  =  s  iilaverv,  torture  and  ruin  that  man,  In 
al"  :.■=  --ijrnanity,  ever  conceived!  Nay,  not  one, 
bui  :':::  :  =  ':.-a5  thus  sold  each  year,  while  the  open 
doors  lure  fresh  victims  into  that  ceaseless  tramp, 
tran*-  -^  'he  death-march  army.  But  I  did  not 
thii  :  *:bese  things  then.     I  tjo  was  blind,  and 

sa^  ::--  .  drunken  fellow. 

F^-  "  'r':\z  be   of  little  further  service,  I 

wa.^.  :.    "here    I    received  a  motherly 

greeting  trom  Mrs.  Wightman,  and  followed  her  to 
the  dining-room  for  a  lunch.  As  she  helped  me  to 
those  appetizing  dishes  which  only  a  real  home- 
maker  knows  how  to  prepare,  we  talked  of  the 
senr-Ti  -""  — -^.t  its  ejects  would  probably  be,  I 
tel-ii^-  ^.reat  of  the  Boss. 

On  ac;: -rnin^  to  the  sitting-room,  we  found 
Alice  earnestly  engaged  in  discussion  with  Deacon 
Johns,  who  deprecated  the  "unwise  course"  the 
pastor  had  pursue!,  and  especially  so,  as  he  had 
never  consulted  with  his  "spiritual  advisers."  "It 
is  the  beginning  of  strife,  I  fear, "  he  remarked, 
"that  n:ay  wreck  the  peace  of  the  church." 

The  girl  I  had  left  an  hour  before  sat  before  that 
pious  old  dreamer,  and  the  light,  burning  in  her  eyes, 
revealed  deep  thoughts,  restless  for  expression.  She, 
upon  whom  I  had  looked  as  a  child,  had  suddenly 
expanded  into  a  woman  whose  moral  insight  and 
loyalty  to  conscience  said,  through  those  eyes, 
"Stand  back;  a  soul  has  tahen  command." 

Suddenly  she  ashed : 

"Brother  Johns,  vrhat  did  the  minister  say  that 
troubles  you  so?" 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  S? 

"Oh,"  was  the  answer,  "he  made  such  a  needless 
attack  on  license,  antagonizing  men  like  Colonel 
Bray.  It  will  drive  them  from  the  church,  I  fear, 
and  we  shall  not  only  lose  their  tinancial  support 
when  we  have  a  large  debt  on  our  hands,  but  the 
opportunity  to  do  them  good." 

I  sat  where  the  play  of  feeling  on  that  queenly 
face  told  me  the  thoughts  which  such  pharisaical 
words  aroused.  With  great  self-control,  she  sup- 
pressed the  reply,  and  merely  asked: 

"Deacon,  why  do  you  men  license  the  saloons?" 

"We  can't  help  ourselves,  my  dear.  If  we  didn't, 
they'd  sell  anyway.  Men  always  have  sold,  always 
have  drank,  and  always  will.  You  can't  make  them 
temperate  by  law." 

"You  don't  think  selling  or  drinking  is  right, 
deacon,  and  yet  you  give  both  permission?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  either  right,  and  we  don't  give 
permission;  we  simply  tax  the  sellers,  so  as  to  make 
them  pay  a  part  of  the  expenses  they  cause  to  the 
city  and  county. " 

"You're  sure  it  isn't  permission,  but  a  simple 
tax?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,  I'm  very  sure." 

"Then  you  could  go  down,  pay  the  tax,  and  pro- 
ceed to  sell,  if  you  chose?" 

"I  suppose — by  getting  a   license." 

"But  suppose  the  council  wouldn't  grant  onel 
You  know,  deacon,  they  must  be  men  of  good  moral 
character;"  and-she  laughed  a  rippling  laugh. 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose  I  could  sell,  legally,  with 
out  a  license. " 


iO  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"Then  you  icoidd  have  to  get  permission?" 

"In  one  sense,  I  suppose  I  would." 

"Deacon,  who  says  you  can't  sell  without  a 
license?" 

"The  state,  through  its  statutes,  my  dear.  The 
le^fislature  makes  the  laws. " 

"And  who  is  allowed  to  take  away  that  embargo?" 

"  The  city  council,  or  village  or  town  board. " 

"Then  if  they  should  refuse  every  man  who  applies, 
we'd  have  prohibition?" 

"I  suppose  they  have  the  right  to  refuse,  if  they 
choose. " 

"Deacon,  how  many  men  are  there  in  this  city?" 

"  About  ten  thousand  voters.  " 

"And  how  many  licensed  saloon  keepers?" 

"One  hundred. " 

"Then  we  have  prohibition  for  nine  thousand  nine 
hundred,  and  license  for  one  hundred?" 

"It  looks  a  little  that  way,  Alice,  but  you  women 
don't  understand  such  things. " 

"And  prohibition  is  enforced  for  all  but  one  man 
in  each  one  hundred?" 

"I  say  again,  my  dear,  that  you  wome:i  don't  un- 
derstand these  things.  If  you  ever  become  voters 
you'll  look  at  them  differently." 

With  great  persistence  she  continued: 

"And  still  you  ninety-nine  can't  keep  the  other 
fellow  from  selling,  so  you  vote  to  give  him  permis- 
sion?    O,  deacon,  do  you  really  think  so?" 

"Well,  perhaps  we  could  stop  him  if- we  were  all  uni- 
ted, but  we're  not" 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  41 

"Why  not  unite,  then?"  What  shoidd.be  done  cafi 
be  done. " 

Just  then  the  door-bell  rang,  and  Mrs.  Wightman 
found  a  messenger  from  Major  Wright's,  with  the  re- 
quest that  she  go  and  sit  with  the  wife,  who  had  re- 
covered consciousness  but  was  very  weak.  He  could 
tell  no  more. 

"I  wonder  what  has  happened!"  exclaimed  Mrs 
Wightman,  as  she  came  from  the  hall. 

I  explained,  and  volunteered  to  go  with  her. 

"I  wish  you  would,"  she  said.  "He  may  require 
your  attention. " 

We  reached  the  house  a  few  moments  later,  when 
suddenly  we  heard  piercing  screams,  and  I  rushed  in, 
a  terrible  dread  giving  speed  to  my  steps. 


HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  VII. 


A    DARING    SERMON. 

I  never  had  known  fear,  but,  as  I  opened  the  door 
into  the  sitting-room,  a  sight  met  my  gaze  that  made 
my  blood  run  cold,  and  paralyzed  for  a  moment  every 
nerve.  On  the  floor  lay  mother  and  child  clasped  in 
one  another's  arms,  while,  with  glaring  eyes  and  de- 
moniacal leer,  the  husband  was  trying  to  drag  his  vic- 
tims by  their  long,  golden  hair.  As  he  pulled  with  a 
madman's  strength,  their  screams  seemed  music  to  his 
crazed  brain.  The  wife  had  caught  with  one  hand 
the  edge  of  the  door  so  as  to  stop  all  progress,  and  the 
torturer  pulled  away,  not  with  the  purpose  of  moving 
them,  but  that  he  might  revel  in  their  agony.  Quick- 
er than  it  takes  to  relate  it,  I  comprehended  all,  and 
looked  about  for  a  weapon.  Seeing  in  the  corner  a 
number  of  canes,  I  grasped  one  and  sprang  forward, 
aiming  a  blow  at  the  tormentor.  He  was  too  wily, 
thus  to  be  foiled,    and  loosing  his  hold,    leaped  aside. 

I  raised  the  prostrate  forms  and  laid  them  upon  the 
couch;  but  scarcely  had  1  done  so,  ere  1  saw  the  wild 
eyes  glaring  through  another  door.  As  I  grasped 
again  the  heavy  cane,  I  discovered  he  was  similarly 
armed,  besides  having  a  large  knife.  A  battle  was 
on,  and  its  outcome  might  have  been  doubtful,  had  not 
Mrs.  Wightman  already  called  a  policeman.  At  this 
moment  the  front  door  opened  and  the  madman  turned. 
Improving  my  opportunity,  I  reached  him  with  a 
bound,  and,  with   a  heavy  blow,    felled    him.      Before 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  43 

• 
he  could  rally,  the  officer  handcuffed  and  se- 
curely pinioned  him.  With  superhuman  strength, 
he  arose,  despite  our  efforts,  and  the  wild,  the 
agonzing  shrieks,  as  he  clutched  at  his  throat, 
crying,  "Take  them  off,  take  them  off,  they  are 
strangling  me  I"  told  how  far  he  had  already  gone 
in  the  broad  high^vvay  of  death,  opened  by  law  and 
sanctioned  by  sane,   intelligent  men. 

As  quickly  as  possible,  we  hurried  the  fiend-haunted 
man  into  the  street,  and  hailinor  a  passing-  wa-Ton. 
bore  him  to  the  next  station  in  that  death-doomed 
poad — the  law's  well  equipped  jail,  strong  enough  to 
defy  flesh  and  bones,  though  nerved  by  a  hundred 
demons. 

Driving  rapidly  down  the  street,  we  saw  many  on 
their  way  to  a  communion  service  at  the  church, 
among  them  Deacon  Johns.  The  cries  and  oaths  of 
the  prisoner  arrested  all  eyes,  and  as  we  passed  that 
''pillar  of  the  church,"  the  scorpion's  sting  seemed  to 
arouse  the  shrieking  man  to  double  fury.  Risinor  to 
his  feet,  he  shook  his  manacled  hands  toward  the  dea- 
con,  and  shouted : 

"Take  them  off,  they're  strangling  me,  burning  me, 
sinking  me  to  Hell  I  Good  bye.  Deacon  Johns,  and 
all  your  white-robed  crew.  Too  late,  too  late!  Oh, 
I'm  dying,  I'm  dying  1"  and  he  threw  himself  wildlj 
backward. 

As  we  stopped  before  the  jail  and  hurried  the  rar- 
ing prisoner  within,  business  men,  church-goers* 
women  and  children,  stopped  to  witness  the  scene. 

"Good  enough  for  him;  he  might  have  let  liquor 
alone;"  said  a  hard-faced  bank  president. 


44  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,"  added  a 
stoop-backed,  white-haired  old  minister,  as  he  hurried 
on  to  his  devotions. 

"As  we  sow,  so  shall  we  reap,"  came  in  a  well- 
rounded  phrase  from  a  tall,  -  broad-shouldered,  well- 
dressed  college  professor,  as,  with  gold-headed  cane, 
polished  boots  and  glossy  silk-hat,  he  strode  along. 

"The  divil  a  bit  any  on  ye  cares  for  the  poor 
mother's  son  what's  drunk  yer  vile  whiskey  over  the 
grand  Palace  bar  'till  the  hobgoblins  o'  hell  has  got 
their  snaky  arms  around  him.  Ye  all  turns  yer 
backs  on  the  poor  bye  and  let's  the  law  and  the  divil 
take  him.  Oh,  marcy,  marcy,  marcy,  on  the  poor, 
poor  manl"  was  the  sympathetic  language  of  a  moth- 
erly Irish  woman. 

Leaving  rum's  victim  in  the  horrors  of  delirium 
tremens,  I  hurried  for  a  doctor,  and  then  returned 
to  the  blighted  home.  Friends  and  physician  were 
doing  all  possible  to  overcome  the  maniac's  work. 
The  sweet-faced  Elsie — the  father's  pride  but  now 
his  victim — lay  moaning  on  a  bed.  Though  soothed 
by  the  doctor's  opiate,  the  horrors  of  those  few  ter- 
rible moments  could  not  be  erased  from  the  delicate 
brain.  Unconscious  and  still,  with  bruised  face  and 
hands,  the  wife  lay  where  I  had  placed  her.  Anxious, 
ly  the  doctor  shook  his  head  and  murmured,  "Too 
bad,  too  bad  I" 

Seeing  I  could  be  of  no  service,  I  wandered  down 
the  street,  my  nerves  fired  by  excitement,  and  the 
infernal  appetite  clamoring  for  drink.  My  salvation 
in  this  hour,  lay  in  the  bitter  and  turbulent  thoughts 
surging  through  my  brain.      I    had    only    feelings    of 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  45 

sympathy  and  sorrow  for  the  man  who  was  then  be- 
ing tortured  by  the  troop  of  fiends  which  the  state's 
law  had  set  at  liberty  and  given  leave  to  rob  and 
blight;  but  for  the  men  and  laws  that  made  it  pos- 
sible, nay,  sold  permission,  my  heart  was  full  of 
curses. 

As  I  strolled    along,    not  knowing    whence  I  went, 
my  ear  caught  sounds  of  Christian  hymns,  sung  slow- 
ly, dolefully.     I  stopped  and  looked   around,   only  to* 
find  that  I  was   near  the   church  door.     Listening,  I 
distinguished  the  words: 

■'Mast  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone, 

"And  all  the  world  go  free  T 
"No,  there's  a  cross  for  every  on«, 

"  And  there's  a  cross  for  me." 

My  brain  reeled  with  sudden  anger,  and  a  strange 
power  impelled  me  to  enter.  As  I  stepped  inside  the 
door,  I  knew  not  what  was  passing,  for,  through 
my  mind,  ran  every  word  of  cursing  and  blasphemy 
that  I  had  ever  heard.  I  loathed,  abhorred  the 
men  who  sang  such  songs,  knowing,  as  I  did,  how 
guilty  they  were  of  the  ruin  I  had  that  day  wit- 
nessed. I  had  no  love,  qo  charity  for  them ;  but,  had 
there  been  a  dynamite  bomb  within  reach,  I  could 
with  pleasure  have  grasped  it,  and  blown  them  all  into 
eternity.  I  was  wrong,  but  how  terrible  the  eviU  I 
had  seen!     At  last  another  hymn  aroused  me: 

"  Come  tLou  Fount  of  every  blessing, 

"  Tune  my  heart  to  sing  thy  praise  ; 
"Streams  of  mercy  never  ceasing, 

"  Call  for  songs  of  londest  praise.** 

1  waited  till  the  last  line  was  sung  and  the  bene- 
diction pronounced;  then,  little  knowing  what  I 
did,   I  shouted : 


46  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

*'Come  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing?  No,  come 
thou  fount  of  every  cursing. — Tune  my  heart  to  sing 
thy  praise?  What  for?  One  hundred  licensed  sa- 
loons?  Never.  Tune  my  heart  to  shout  thy  sin, 
— Streams  of  mercy  never  ceasing?  No;  streams  of 
murder  never  ceasing. — Call  for  songs  of  loudest 
praise?  No;  call  for  oaths  and  maledictions.''^  Then 
advancing  from  the  door  I  raised  my  hands  and, 
.while  shaking  them  wildly,  shouted  louder:  "G-od 
don't  hear  you,  ye  whited  sepulchers.  Your  hands 
are  red  with  blood.  Murder  runs  riot  in  your  streets, 
legalized  by  your  votes. " 

As  I  ceased  speaking,  I  saw  the  fear  on  many  faces, 
that  a  dangerous  madman  was  in  their  midst,  and 
Ts-ithout  another  word,  I  turned  and  stalked  away. 

My  brain  was  now  clear,  although  what  I  ^ad  said 
and  done  seemed  like  a  dream — a  wild  nightmare. 

At  last  I  reached  the  house  where  I  had  left  Mrs. 
Wighrman,  and  crept  in  as  though  crape  were 
on  the  door.  All  was  quiet,  save  here  and  there, 
women  ministered  at  the  shrine  of  sorrow.  Upon 
the  couch,  the  form  was  still,  the  face  was  white. 

"Is  she  dead?"  I  whispered  to  the  physician.  " 

"No,"  was  his  answer,  "but  she  will  never  come 
to  consciousness,  I  fear.  The  blows  reached  far 
deeper  than  the  tender  flesh  or  bone.  They  bruised 
the  heart — perhaps  it  broke.  If  so,  a  few  hours 
more  will  see  as  sweet  and  true  a  woman  as  ever 
blessed  a  man,  cut  down  and  dead  by  his  own 
hand.  •• 

"No,  not  by  his  own  hand,"  I  remonstrated  in  a 
hoarse  whisper.      "  'Twas  whiskey   that  did  it — fired 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  47 

his  brain  and  nerved  his  hand — the   vile   drink    that 
law  sanctions.      Doctor,  how  black    this    city's  sins!" 

The  doctor  sat  with  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands,  and  made  no  answer;  so  I  arose  and  glanced 
into  the  room  where  lay  the  sweet  child  Elsie,  across 
whose  forehead  was  a  long,  dark  bruise,  ending  in 
an  ugly  gash  as  it  entered  the  golden  hair. 

Sick  at  heart,  I  hurried  away  without  further 
question.  The  evening  air  fanned  my  brow,  and  1 
strolled  on,  not  heeding  whither  I  went,  till  I  found 
myself  without  the  city,  where,  as  far  as  eye  could 
reach,  green  fields  and  pastures,  groves  and  rolling 
hills,  told  of  God's  goodness,  love  and  bounty.  The 
birds  were  twittering  in  the  trees,  or  nestling  fond- 
ly over  speckled  eggs  or  downy  fledglings.  The 
sheep  and  cattle  grazed  contentedly  upon  the  green- 
sward, or  lazily  reclined  in  shady  nooks  and  chou-ed 
their  cuds  in  perfect  satisfaction.  I  clambered  up  a 
hill  and  threw  myself  in  wild  abandon,  full  length, 
upon  a  massive  rock.  Gazing  to  westward,  I  saw 
the  golden  sun  through  haze  and  fleecy  cloud,  sink. 
ing  to  rest  The  breeze,  the 'trees,  the  hum  of  nat- 
ure, and  the  chords  of  light  spread  out  so  gorgeously 
above,  all  spoke  of  peace,  of  perfect  harmory  in  all 
the  realm  of  dumb,  unthinking  matter.  But  all  this 
peace  could  not  subdue  the  storms  within.  At  last  I 
sat  up  and  looked  toward  the  city.  The  dusky  shad- 
ows were  already  mingling  tree  and  steeple,  tower- 
ing walls  and  distant  hills  in  one  dark  mass  of 
gloom. 

"Twill  soon  be  dark   and    then  the  hundred  death- 
traps   of   yon   city,    under   cover   of  the   niorht,    will 


48 


HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


ply  their  damning  trade,  while  churches  preach  and 
sing  and  pray,  and  then  away  to  peaceful  slumber," 
whispered  my  bitter  heart. 

With  a  bound  and  curse,  I  sprang  to  the  ground, 
and  strode  back  toward  the  twinkling  lights  of  Chris- 
lian  homes  and-legal  hells  commingled,  naught  tell- 
ing to  the  wanderer's  eye  which  one  was  which,  ex- 
cepting that  the  Devil's  fix-e  was  brighter  and  shone 
out  with  stronger,  more  inviting  beam.  "AJi,  wan- 
derer," said  I,   "which  one  will  ye  choose?" 


THE  LOUUEWS  STORY.  iS 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


A    VITAL    QUESTION. 

Neither  the  quiet  of  the  evening,  the  praceful, 
goiden  light  in  the  west,  nor  my  rest  upon  the  rock, 
was  ab^e  to  still  the  ever  rising  indignation  in  my 
heart.  Before  my  vision,  af  1  hastened  toward  the 
city,  a  dark  and  ghastly  panorama  constantly  re- 
volved. The  pictures  were,  a  lovely  ^ife  struck 
down;  an  innocent  child's  white  face,  written  with 
a  terrible  fear  that  her  mother  was  killed;  a  strong 
man,  crazed  and  almost  helpless, falling  upon  his  own 
parlor  hoor ;  a  maniac,  gleefully  dragging  that  wife 
aud  child  by  their  golden  curls;  two  unconscious 
ODes,  almost  if  not  quite  murdered;  a  man  in  the 
horrors  of  delirium  tremens,  cursing  and  raving  as 
he  was  hurried  to  the  lock-up  prepared  by  the  city 
for  its  victims;  and  then,  a  body  of  the  men  who  had 
helped  to  make  such  scenes  possible,  singing  sacred 
songs,  and  eating  and  drinking  the  symbols  of  a 
Savior  crlicified  to  save  weak  and  fallen  men. 

1  was  no  more  the  careless  man  who  had  sauntered 
to  church  by  the  fair  Alice  that  muj-ning,  than  the 
man  of  forty  is  the  boy  of  four.  1  had  that  day  come  to 
see  the  licensed  sale  of  aicoh^>lic  drinks  in  all  its  hor- 
rors— the  blackest,  most  gigantic  crime  of  crimes 
that  nations  ever  sanctioned.  Our  liberty  seemed 
like  a  farce,  and  our  boasted  republic  but  the  breed- 
ing, fattening  place  of  fiends  incarnate,  prepared 
to  torture  men  as  tyrants  never  dreamed, 
4 


60  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"A  city  of  free  men?"  queried  conscience.  "Nay, 
nay,"  came  the  cry  from  the  very  atmosphere  1 
breathed,"  but  a  generation  of  abject  slaves,  purchas- 
ing some  surcease  from  our  own  ills  or  burdens,  by 
turning  over  to  the  torturer,  for  a  price,  the  unwary, 
unprotected,  unthinking,  and  weak  ones,  that  out  of 
them  he  may  make  spirits  fit  for  hell.  Aye,  more; 
each  drink-den  is  an  open  gateway  thither. " 

I  stopped  my  rapid  march,  overwhelmed  by  the 
thought :  "  A  hundred  open  gates  to  eternal  dam. 
nation,  in  one  small  city;  two  hundred  thousand  in 
this  grand  republic,  and  the  flower  of  our  homes, 
our  colleges,  our  professions,  our  yeomanry,  going 
in  thereat. " 

I  sat  down  by  a  babbling  brook,  and  dipping  my 
hand  into  the  cool  water,  lifted  it  to  my  thirsty  lips. 
'Twas  sweet  and  refreshing,  but  could  not  quench 
that  strange,  infernal  thirst  that  arose  from  every  re- 
cess of  my  being,  unconquered  and  unsatisfied.  I  had 
felt  strong  to  battle  for  my  fellows,  but  the  cry  ol 
appetite  unnerved  me;  and,  faint  and  trembling,  1 
leaned  back  against  a  giant  oak.  The  brook  sang 
merrily  on,  the  crickets  began  their  chirp,  and  the 
frogs  their  evening  song. 

I  know  not  how  long  I  might  have  sat,  had  not 
a  light  hand  suddenly  rested  on  my  uncovered  head. 
I  looked  up  and  beheld  a  pair  of  lovely  eyes  fixed  in- 
quiringly upon  me.  Before  I  could  rise,  Alice 
Wightman,  asked: 

"  Joseph  Strong !  where  have  you  been ;  are  yoL- 
sick?" 

"No,  Alice;  I'm  not  sick,"     I  answered,  too  intent 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  61 

on  my  own  thoughts  to  be  surprised.       "Sit  down  on 
this  green  bank  and  answer  a  question  for  me. " 

Complying,  she  looked  up  and  met  my  steady  gaze. 
I  read  her  anxious  thought,  but  saw  it  disappear  as 
she  aivined  the  deeper  thoughts  that  stirred  my  heart. 
The  lovely  eyes,  the  rosy  cheeks,  the  sweet,  express- 
ive mouth,  all  faded  from  my  view,  and  I  beheld  only 
a  responsive  heart,  a  loyal,  Christian  girl,  so  sensi- 
tive and  true  that  I  could  reveal  every  doubt  or  fear,, 
question  or  aspiration  with  confidence.  When,  by  an. 
intuition  born  of  sympathy,  I  felt  all  other  thoughts 
were  gone,  I  asked : 

"Alice,  why  are  patriotic,  philanthropic.  Christian 
men  and  women  deaf  or  dead  to  all  the  miseries  be- 
gotten by  the  drink-traffic?" 

"I  cannot  tell,  Joseph,"  she  answered.  '"Tis 
strange  but  true,  and  all  so  common  that  I  have  never 
solved  the  problem.  Perhaps  you  can  from  this  day's 
sad  experience. " 

"I  cannot,  unless,  like  me  before  I  met  that  stag- 
gering man,  they  have  not  been  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  sympathy  and  love  for  suffering  men.  Perhaps 
they  may  be  born  anew  and  live  pure  lives  them- 
selves, but  stop  there;  while  only  here  and  there  is 
one  so  far  renewed,  that  he  is  born  all  out  of  self,  and 
mto  love  and  helpfulness  for  others.  Such  was  the 
Master  in  His  life  of  sacrifice;  but  I  am  forced  to 
think  that  many  of  his  disciples  are  like  the  self-reli- 
ant Peter.  Not  till  he  has  been  sifted  and  all  self 
cast  away,  did  the  mighty  Searcher  of  hearts  say. 
«Lovest  thou  me?'  Then,  too,  for  the  first  time  could 
he    answer:      'Yea,    Lord^     thou    knowest  that  I  love 


OS  HlOE  JOE;  OR, 

thee.*  Behold  the  answer,  Alice,  and  the  wonderful, 
double  commission:  'Feed  my  sheep' — 'Feed  my 
lambs.'  Not  with  the  growth  of  a  love  divine,  but 
with  a  love /or  the  divine,  came  such  a  sympathy  for 
his  brethren,  that  the  Master  knew  he  was  ready  to 
fulfil  the  grand  commission.      Am  I  right?" 

I  needed  not  her  answer,  for  I  had  read  in  the  deep 
but  happy  light  beaming  from  her  eyes,  that  T  had 
wakened  strong,  responsive  chords,  tuned  to  a  holier 
key  than  my  own  unchristiike  feelings. 

"Joseph,"  she  said,  while  the  spirit  of  another 
Mary  beamed  from  her  face,  "  you  are  not  far  from  the 
kingdom.  Who  taught  your  lips  to  speak  such 
thoughts,  so  true,  so  beautiful?  I  never  saw  so 
grand  a  meaning  in  those  words  before.  Surely  the 
sweet  Comforter  has  found  thee  at  this  Sabbath  hour, 
beside  the  babbling  brook,  and  broken  to  thy  troubled 
heart  some  portions  of  the  bread  of  life,  a  sweeter, 
higher  vision  than  the  mass  of  yonder  church-goers 
have  received." 

"No,  Alice,"  I  answered;  "I've  had  too  many  curs- 
ing, bitter  thoughts  to-day,  to  allow  aught  that  leads 
upward,  a  welcome  reception.  I  am  rebellious  and 
sore  with  other's  wrongs  and  sorrows  to-night,  and 
weak  with  my  own." 

"Then  let  us  go  home,"  she  replied  rising.  "You 
have  had  too  much  excitement  for  one  day.  I  was 
the  only  one  at  church  who  recognized  you,  and 
hoped  to  find  you  at  home.  I  did  not,  and  so,  after 
going  to  Major  Wright's,  strolled  out,  fearing  that 
you  might  need  mental  assistance  to  get  back." 

I  smiled,     and  as  we  turned    our    steps    homeward, 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY. 


53 


she  told  how  Elsie  had  become  conscious,  but  that 
the  mother's  pulse  still  fluttered  so  feebly  and  uncer. 
tain  that  the  doctor  had  little  hope  of  saving  her. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wightman  were  anxiously  awaiting 
us;  and,  as  we  gathered  round  a  simple  meal,  all 
words  were  softened  by  a  Christian  charity  for  way- 
ward men,  responsive  to  the  thoughts  breathed  in  the 
evening  blessing.  This  strong  man  with  his  loving 
wife  and  child,  dispelled  the  angry  storms  within  my 
heart,  leaving  in  their  place  a  calm  but  firm 
conviction  of  the  wrongs  of  rum,  and  a  resolve  to 
fight  it  from  that  day. 

After  tea  I  went  to  see  Major  Wright,  requesting 
that  no  one  sit  up  for  my  return,  as  it  might  be  late. 
The  unfortunate  man  was  a  sad  spectacle.  The 
ravings  of  the  maniac  were  largely  subdued  by 
the  physician's  medicines,  but  the  glaring,  sleepless 
eyes,  and  shackled  hands  picking  constantly  at  the 
unseen  meshes  of  dragon-nets  or  serpent-coils,  or 
brushing  away  the  buzzing  flies  that,  in  imagination, 
stifled  his  breathing,  declared  the  power  of  rum. 

I  asked  if  I  could  be  of  assistance,  but  was  assured 
by  the  jailer  that  the  crazed  man  was  chained  so  se- 
curely, there  was  little  danger  or  need  of  help.  His 
bleeding  hands  and  bruised  face  showed  how  true  he 
had  found  the  keeper's  words. 

"He  can't  get  off  the  bed,"  explained  the  attendant. 
"We  used  to  have  wild  times  watching  such  fellows, 
but  the  fun  is  all  taken  out  by  those  chains." 

"Do  you  have  many  such  cases?"  I  inquired,  struck 
with  the  jailor's  lack  of  feeling. 

"Oh  no,  not  many;   three  or  four  a  week  and  som«- 


M  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

times  two  for  a  night.  Then's  when  they  make  Rome 
howl.  Get  two  such  fellows  to  cursing,  and  the  air 
becomes  about  as  blue  as  I  care  to  stand.  I  can't 
help  wondering,  sometimes,  what  kind  of  a  pandemon- 
ium they'd  make  if  one  hundred  or  more  were  let  loose 
in  one  place. " 

"The  Bottomless  Pit,"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh,  "all  that  the 
liquor  traffic  of  this  nation  kill  in  a  year.  My  f 
wouldn't  they  make  Hell  howl?  If  some  of  our  in- 
nocent, license  advocates  could  induce  the  'Old  Gen- 
tleman' who  keeps  that  place,  to  let  them  look  in  for 
a  five  minute  matinee,  there  wouldn't  be  any  demand 
for  tickets  to  the  evening  performance. " 

"Then  you  think,"  I  asked,  "that  license  don't  help 
the  matter  any!" 

"Help  the  matter!"  he  exclaimed  with  all  the  scorn 
he  could  command;  "young  man,  are  you  a  stranger 
here?" 

"Pretty  near, "  I  answered. 

"Then  let  me  tell  you, "  he  continued,  shaking  hia 
long  arm  and  bony  finger  at  me:  "We've  one  hun- 
dred saloons,  but  two  or  three  like  Col.  Bray's  'Palace, 
ao  more  harm  than  all  the  rest.  The  kids,  the  dudes, 
the  white-vested,  well-polished-shoe  young  chaps  get 
in  there,  and  one  diamond-studded  beast  can  teach 
them  enough  that  is  vile  and  devlish  in  one  night  to 
forever  stain,  if  not  destroy,  all  that  the  best  mother 
can  teach  her  boy  during  his  first  eighteen  years. " 

"You  talk  as  though  you'd  been  there,"  I  re- 
marked. 

"Been    there  I      I  guess  I  have.       You  can't  tell  me 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  65 

anything  about  a  tony  saloon.  My!  what  pictures 
I've  seen  a  bartender  or  lecherous  gambler  hand  out 
to  a  table  full  of  young  fellows,  in  their  'teens' — 
pictures  by  the  dozen,  that  would  ruin  the  face  of  a 
bronze  statue  to  behold.  And  then  they'd  sing  songs 
such  as  only  the  'syrens'  would  dare  to  whisper; 
then  another  and  another,  as  beer  fired  the  brain. 
The  drink  is  bad  and  leads  to  drunkenness,  but  nothing 
equals  the  heart-stains,  soul-pollution,  crowded  into 
one  hour  spent  in  such  a  place.  They're  at  it  now, 
from  dive  to  palace,   all  over  this  city. " 

"And  while  the  sleepy  deacons,  in  the  churche?  pray, 
"A  hundred  devils  capture  souls,  a  block  away." 

"Then  I  guess  I'll  go  and  see  them  work  awhile,"  I 
answered,  a  sudden  impulse  seizing  me;  and  I  hurried 
away,  thanking  the  law's  hard-handed  executioner  for 
his  information. 

As  I  went  by  a  church,  I  stepped  inside  and  found 
the  room  half  full,  with  fourteen  or  fifteen  young  men 
present.  The  minister  was  discussing  the  doctrine 
of  foreordination  and  predestination,  while  the  audi- 
ence seemed  to  believe  it  from  the  sleepy  way  in 
which  they  listened. 

Hastening  on,  I  visited  several  other  churches, 
with  similar  results.  Then  reaching  a  low  dive, 
I  entered.  The  room  was  full  of  men,  old,  bloated, 
bent,  feeble,  victims  of  the  drink  fiend.  His  mark 
was  stamped  on  face  and  form,  and  the  very  at- 
mosphere was  loaded  with  his  poison.  A  few  young 
men,  already  old  in  revelry,  were  in  the  crowd. 

"Sureli/,"  thought  I,  "this  is  a  gate  to  Hades;"  and 
I  instinctively  looked  for  the  dark  passage  downward. 

Hastening  on  from  place  to   place,     only    stopping 


56  niGH  JGC;.  OH, 

long  enough  to  get  a  picture  of  the  rushing  trade  in 
hell- wares  and  the  number  present,  my  heart  grew 
sick  from  all  I  saw  of  woe,  slavery  and  impending 
death ;  but  I  will  only  tell  of  one  sad  scene  : 

I  entered  the  last  vile  place,  kept  by  a  burly  brute, 
counted  the  inmates,  and  added  my  figures:.  "Two 
thousand  three  hundred  and  twenty,  or  over  twenty  for 
each  place,    and  more  than  half  of  them  young  men!" 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  two  children  entered, 
their  rags  scarcely  covering  their  nakedness.  Ad- 
vancing toward  the  bar,  their  pinched,  white  faces 
telling  tales  of  hunger,   the  little  girl  said  timidly: 

"Please-sir,  is-our-pa-here?" 

"Here?  No;  get  out  you  brats!"  shouted  the 
propri  etor. 

"  Ma — said — he — must — be  here;"  spoke  up  the  boy, 
hesitatingly,  holding  tight  the  hand  of  the  shrinking 
girl  who  sought  to  flee. 

"  D n  your  ma  and    the    whole  tribe  of  ragged 

brats!"  stormed  the  enraged  man  of  'good  moral 
character.'  Rushing  from  his  place,  he  seized  the 
boy,  and,  with  a  violent  kick  at  the  retreating, 
almost  baby  girl,  sent  her  rolling  and  senseless  into 
the  corner.  Then  hastening  to  the  open  door,  with 
a  swing  over  his  head,  and  a  cry  of  pain  and  alarm 
from  the  childish  lips,  he  hurled  the  boy  high  into 
the  air.  So  quickly  was  it  done  that  I  only  realized 
the  murderous  deed,  when  I  heard  the  little  body 
strike  the  stone-paved  street,  with  a  dead  thud;  and 
my  heart  stood  still. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY,  fH 


CHAPTER  IX. 


WHO  PAYS? 

Before  I  could  move,  a  sturdy,  begrimed  man 
sprang  from  oue  of  the  card  tables,  and,  with  a 
terrible  oath,  shouted:  "Those  are  my  children. 
Take  that,  you  infernal  brute!"  and  he  struck  the 
saloon-keeper  so  severe  a  blow  as  to  send  hiiii 
sprawling  through  the  door.  Then  jumping  upon 
him  before  any  one  could  interfere,  he  stamped  and 
kicked  the  life  almost  out  of  him.  I  hastened  to  the 
still  form  of  the  baby  girl  in  the  corner,  and  raising 
it  in  my  arms,  limp  and  apparently  lifeless,  reached 
the  door  just  as  the  others  stopped  the  crazed  parent. 
As  he  saw  me,  he  grasped  my  charge,  exclaiming: 
"Oh,  my  baby,  my  baby  I  Has  he  killed  you?" 

Pressing  her  to  his.  bosom,  he  rushed  out,  where 
kind  hands  had  raised  the  unconscious  and  bleeding 
boy.  The  face  of  the  father,  as  he  beheld  his  other 
child,  was  dark  and  threatening.  His  anger  was  too 
severe  to  be  softened  by  tears  of  sorrow;  and  mut- 
tering to  his  precious  charge,  he  stalked  away,  some 
fellow- workmen  carrying  the  boy. 

I  need  not  tell  what  followed — the  mother's  first 
grief,  or  her  wonderful  heroism  in  stifling  her  own 
sorrow  as  her  unconscious  babes  were  borne  into  a 
cheerless,  poverty-stricken  room,  and  laid  upon  a 
pile  of  straw  and  old  rags.  The  husband  dared  not 
meet  bis  wife*s  eyes,  for  a  more  terrible  fire  burned 
thereiii  than  any  stirred    in  his  own  besotted  breast. 


58  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

A  doctor  had  been  called,  and  soon,  with  a  pi<»<se 
of  candle  as  his  only  light,  was  examining  the  dead- 
like forms. 

"I  feel  a  slight    puse, "    he    said,  preparing  some 
medicine;  and  as    soon    as    administered,  passed  his 
bands  over  the    little  frames,    shaking  his  head  omi 
nously. 

"Broken  and  bruised",  he  murmured;  "but  they 
may  live,   poor  things,  to  be  cripples  for  life." 

Then  turning  to  the  father,  he  said  severely: 

"Ben  Pitts,  your  appetite  for  drink  has  caused 
this.     Will  it  be  enough  to  reform  you?" 

The  look  of  pain  in  the  drunkard's  face  showed 
how  the  taunting  shaft  had  entered  a  fresh  spot  in 
his  heart;  but  it  faded  as  he   answered: 

"No,  doctor,  I  can't  reform  with  all  those  saloons 
to  pass.  I've  tried  and  tried  and  fallen,  till  I  can't 
try.  You,  doctor,  voted  to  place  them  there,  and  I 
am  paying  the  fee,  in  spite  of  -my  wife  and  babes.  I 
toil  and  toil,  and  you  fellows  and  Pat  Moran  get  it 
all." 

Meeting  his  wife's  gaze,  he  covered  his  face  with 
bis  hands,  exclaiming:  "O,  Mary;  our  babes  are 
killed  and  I  am  to  blame!" 

Seeing  a  number  of  women  ready  to  help,  I  hurried 
out.  The  streets  were  still,  the  windows  dark 
except  here  and  there  the  torch  to  hell-gates  still 
blazed  on.  Dragging  my  weary  ,  feet  along  the 
cheerless  walks,  the  events  of  one  brief  Sabbath 
revolving  wildly  in  my  mind,  there  came  this 
thought : 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  59 

-Is  there  a  heaven,  and  a  God  who  loves  his  crea- 
tures and  rules  creation?" 

In  spite  of  all  my  bitterness,    an  answering  voles, 
as  from  the  stars,  said,   with    a  ring  of  life  and  hope 
that  seemed    to    light    my    way    and    lift  my  heavy 
.burden: 

"The  father  loves,  and  all  he  wills  is  love.  Only 
his  children,  in  their  blind,  forgetful  worship  of  the 
golden  gods,  will  suffering  ^r  their  brethren.  The 
Prince  of  Nazareth  proclaims  a  day  of  love,  joy  and 
peace  to  men. " 

I  hastened  on,  the  tumult  in  my  heart,  like 
waves  when  storms  have  ceased  their  wild,  wind 
sweep,  rising  and  falling  in  mighty  surges. 

A  bright  light  burned  within  the  window  of  my 
new  home;  and,  ere  I  reached  the  door,  it  opened 
and  two  anxious  faces  peered  into  the  darkness. 

While  I  divined  the  reason  for  this  midnight  vigil, 
my  tired  feet  climbed  slowly  the  steps,  and  brought 
my  face  within  the  lamp-light's  glare. 

'Twas  but  a  moment  that  foreboding  fear  darkened 
the  mother's  brow,  or  anxious  care  the  dauo-hter's 
handsome  face,  for  I  exclaimed:  "You  disobedient 
children,  what  shall  I  say?" 

"That  we  couldn't  retii-e  without  knowing  where 
you  were,  my  boy,"  answered  Mrs.  Wightman,  hold- 
ing out  her  hand  in  a  motherly  way. 

"And  that  j^ou  didn't  need  our  help,"  added  Alice 
with  a  smile  of  welcome. 

A  moment  later,  as  I  looked  up  from  the  couch  on 
which  I  had  thrown    myself,     Mrs.    Wightman  asked: 


60  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"Joseph,  have  you  anything  to  tell  us  for  our  long 
hours  of  waiting?" 

Alice  drew  her  chair  before  the  couch,  while  her 
mother,  from  her  arm  chair  at  my  head,  placed  a 
warm  hand  upon  my  hot  forehead.  I  knew  by  her 
oa-'uest  voice,  and  the  interested  face  of  my  fair 
watcher,  that  the  question  was  deeper  than  idle 
cariosity,  so  I  answered: 

"I  would  gladly  tel]  you  all,  but  it's  so  late,  we 
would  better  wait  till  merging.  'Tis  only  another 
sad  chapter  in  Rum's  dart  story.  My  heart  is  too 
bitter  to  talk  of  it  now. " 

"We  want  to  quell  those  bitter  thoughts  before 
you  go  to  rest,"  said  Alice,  "for  we  canuot  harbor 
storms  nor  heart  blights  in  our   home."  . 

"Yes,"  answered  the  mother,  "but  our  words  may 
not  do  it.  Let  us  try  a  hymn;"  and  before  I  could 
reply,  there  broke  upon  my  troubled  ear,  in  melodi- 
ous chords,  such  as  angels  might  chant,  those  words 
that  so  grandly  compass  the  whole  j^-ospel  of  re- 
demption and  peace: 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul; 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly." 

As  the  beautiful  words,  sung  by  hearts  attuned  to 
Heaven's  message,  went  flooding  through  my  soul, 
the  storms  and  restless  waves  rolled  out,  till  they 
were  lost  within  the  sea  of  peace;  and  as  they  sang, 
T  dropped  asleep. 

I  knew  no  more,  till,  on  my  dreaming  ear,  a 
merry,  rippling  laugh  broke  in  familiar  tones,  which 
was  followed,   as  it  neared  me,  with: 

"O,  Jose})h  Strong,  you'll  lose  your  breakfast  if 
you  sleep  too  long." 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  61 

Opening  my  eyes,  I  saw  Alice  standing  near  me 
in  the  full  morning  light,    a    sunbeam  of  merriment. 

Comprehending  the  situation,  I  sat  up,  feeling  as 
though  I  had  entered  a  new  world. 

During  breakfast  T  related  the  events  of  the  previ- 
ous evening,   and  Mr.   Wightinan  remarked : 

"You'll  be  a  full  fledged  reformer,  if  you  indulge 
is  many  such  excursions.  The  good  people  of  the 
city  don't  know  the  deeds  of  darkness  going  on  in 
their  licensed  shops;  and  if  they  did,  I  don't  know 
as  it  would  stii  them  much.  Selfish  ease  is  more 
powerful  than  love  for  suffering  humanity.  If  one 
hundred  pest  houses  were  running  full  blast,  you 
wouldn't  have  been  the  only  man  out  last  night  to 
learn  what  they  were  doing." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Alice,  "but  ]  want  to  know 
what  they  will  do  with  Ben  Pitts  if  Pat  Moran 
dies. " 

"I'll  find  out,"  I  answered.  "It  will  make  lively 
work  if  he  is  arrested  and  tried. " 

"I'll  go  his  bail,  if  necessary,"  said  Mr.  Wight- 
man. 

As  I  left  the  house,  at  a  late  hour,  Mrs.  Wightman 
followed  me  to  the  door,  saying  for  my  encourage- 
ment: 

"Joseph,  my  confidence  in  your  strength  is  much 
greater  since  you  ran  such  a  gauntl^^t  of  saloons 
last  night.  You  may  have  seen  that  I  was  very 
anxious. " 

"I  have,"  I  answered,  "and  you  have  reason  to 
be,  for  chere's  fire  in  my  bosom  that  requires  con- 
-stant  fighting. " 


63  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Before  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps,  a  shower  ol 
roses  fell  around  me,  and  I  looked  up,  getting  a 
vision  of  the  fair  Alice,  embowered  in  a  profusion  of 
flowers  on  the  porch  above.  With  a  laugh,  she  ex- 
claimed: 

"Will  you  wear  a  white  one  if  I'll  cut  it?" 

"Of  course  I  will,"  I  answered,  catching  a  beauti- 
ful one  as  it  fell. 

I  pinned  it  to  my  coat  and  strode  away  with  a 
buoyancy  of 'heart  such  as  no  other  smile  could  have 
given.  Meeting  a  workman,  I  inquired  whether 
there  was  any  danger    of    Ben  Pitts  being    arrested. 

"Yes;  they're  after  him  already,"  was  the  answer. 
"Colonel  Bray  swore  out  the  warrant.  The  doctor 
says  Moran  can't  live." 

I  hurried  to  Pitts'  house  where  I  found  him,  with 
haggard  face,  watching  his  unconscious  children.  A 
number  of  workmen  were  conversing  in  the  hall,  and 
I  asked  whether  he  had  any  money  to  hire  an  attor- 
ney. 

"No,"  answered  one,  "but  we  are  going  to  raise 
some. " 

"Who  will  you  get?"  I  asked. 

"We'd  like  Major  Wright,  if  he  wasn't  in  the 
calaboose. " 

"He'll  be  out    soon,  and    I  think  I  can  enlist  him." 
''Are  you    a    lawyer?"    queried    several,     all  eyes 
looking  at  me. 

"No,"  I  answered,  "but  I  will  be  some  day.  I 
wish  1  was  now. " 

'You're  the  man  then,    to   see    Wright,"  said  one 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  63 

who   seemed  quite  a    leader;    "but    let  me  talk    with 
Pitcs  first. " 

He  had  disappeared  but  a  few  moments,  when  a 
policeman  came  up  the  stairs,  inquiring  for  Ben. 

"He's  watching  his  dying  children,"  remarked  a 
grimy  fellow. 

"Why  didn't  Bray  get  a  warrant  for  Moran?" 
asked  another. 

"I  don't  know  and  don't  care,"  answered  the  offi- 
cer brutally,  starting  for  the  door. 

"No,  you're  one  of  Bray's  pets,"  said  the  work, 
man,  stepping  in  front  of  him.  "Guess  you'd  better 
wait  till  we  see  if  Ben  can  leave. " 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  the  others,  closing  around  the 
policeman  in  a  threatening  way. 

Just  then  the  leader  came  out,  saying: 
"He'll  be  ready  whenever  he's  wanted." 
A  half  hour  later,  the  accused  stood  before  the 
municipal  judge,  and,  at  my  suggestion,  pleaded 
"not  guilty,"  to  the  complaint  of  assault  with  intent 
to  kill.  Then,  at  his  request  for  a  week's  adjourn- 
ment that  he  might  procure  counsel  and  prepare  for 
trial.  Colonel  Bray  came  forward  and  whispered  with 
the  district  attorney,  who  at  once  opposed  it. 

"Whose  attorney  are  you,  Colonel  Bray's  or  the 
state's — the  people's?"  asked  a  brawny  fellow  as  the 
prosecutor  closed  his  remarks. 

"Order!"  shouted  the  judge;  "keep  quiet,  or  some 
of  you  fellows  will  be  locked  up. " 

"Another  one  of  Bray's  humble  servants,"  re- 
marked  some  one  in  an  undertone,  and  a  laugh  went 


64  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

round:  at  which  the  indigDant  prosecutor  looked  an 
grily  over  the  crowd,  saying: 

"  None  of*  your  d n  business    whose    attorney  1 

am;"  at  which  the  crowd  laughed  again. 

Just  then  Mr.  Wightman  entered  and  took  a  seat 
near  the  front, 

"I'll  grant  the  week's  adjournment,  provided  the 
prisoner  gives  good  bail,"  remarked  the  judge,  evi- 
dently thinking  he  had  named  an  impossible  condi- 
tion. 

"I'll  sign  his  bond,  your  honor,"  said  Mr.  Wight- 
man,  rising,  and  the  crowd  began  to  clap  and 
stamp. 

When  quiet  was  restored,  the    judge    said    coldly, 
but  with  evident  respect  for  the  composed  merchant: 
Your  name  will  be  sufficient,  Mr.  Wightman. " 

In  spite  of  the  frown  of  the  "Boss,"  all  matters 
were  quickly  arranged,  the  prisoner  set  free,  and  the 
crowd  dispersed,  many  shaking  hands  with  the  man 
who  dared  antagonize  the  leading  politician. 

Scarcely  were  the  men  on  the  street,  when  some  one 
announced  that  Pat.  Moran  was  dead;  and  the  news 
flew  from  lip  to  lip,  while  the  question  was  anxious- 
ly  repeated: 

"What  will  Ben  Pitts  do?" 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    MILLS    GRIND    ON. 

As  I  saw  Ben  Pitts,  with  a  sad,  anxious  face, 
hurry  toward  his  darkened  home,  I  remembered  a 
row  of  prisoners  sittiiig  in  the  court  room,  and  was" 
seized  with  a  de=^ire  to  witness  their  arraicrnment. 
Returning,  I  beheld  a  dozen  men,  some  with  blank 
looks,  others  witn  care  and  anxiety  stamped  on  every 
feature,  awaiting  the  onward  grind  of  the  mill.  The 
officers,  judge  and  district  attorney  were  whis- 
pering together,  glancing  occasionally  at  the  prison, 
ers.  At  last  the  heartless  work  began  by  the  court 
saying  to  the  first  man: 

"You're  arrested  as  a  tramp  and  for  resisting  an 
officer;  what  have  you  to  say?" 

"I  am  not  a  tramp.  I  was  just  going  from  Chi. 
cago  to  St.  Paul  to  find  work,  and  got  out  of  money. 
I  didn't  have  much  to  start  with,  and  when  T  groi 
here  there  was  no  place  open  to  me  but  the  saloons. 
I  got  a  drink  and  started  for  the  country  to  find  a 
place  to  sleep,  when  a  policeman  arrested  mo.  I 
hadn't  done  anything  and  1  didn't  think  he  had  a 
right  to  arrest  me. " 

"G-ot  any  money?" 

"No,   sir." 

"Think  you  can  get  out  of  town  and  not  be  seen 
here  again  if  I  let  you  go?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you  may  move  along." 
5 


66  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Greatly  relieved,  the  poor  fellow  hurried  out,  while 
the  others  underwent  a  similar  grind,  showing  some 
to  be  lazy,  shiftless  tramps,  and  others  industrious 
but  unfortunate  men ;  then  a  dozen  or  more  "  drunks " 
were  marched  in. 

"What  have  you  to  say?"  asked  the  court  of  the 
first.  "You  are  charged  with  being  drunk  and  dis- 
orderly. '• 

•*I  don't  know,  yer  honor,  only  I  guess  I  was 
drunk.     I  feel  as  though  I  had  been." 

"What's  your  name  and  business?" 

**My  name,  yer  honor,  is  Peter  Mackin.  I've 
been  up  in  the  woods  ten  months  cuttin'  ha'y, 
watchin'  cattle,  makin'  roads,  choppin',  drivin'  tote 
team,  and  most  every  thin'.  I  live  down  here  'bout 
fifty  miles." 
.     **  Got  any  family?" 

**Yes,  yer  honor;  I've  a  wife  and  three  little  chil- 
dren;" and  the  tears  filled  the  man's  eyes  at  the 
thought. 

"Any  money?" 

"  I  dunno,  I'll  see;"  and  he  drew  out  a  thin,  well 
worn  purse,  which  he  opened.  Looking  up  at  the 
court  with  surprise  and  pain,  he  continued: 

"  No  sir;  I've  no  money.  I  had  two  hundred  dol- 
lars last  night,  when  I  went  into  the  saloon  with  the 
boys.     Its  all  gone  now,  but  I  don't  know  where." 

««  Where  did  you  get  two  hundred  dollars?" 

"  From  the  lumber  company.  They  paid  off  ten  of 
us  for  nearly  a  year's  work.  I  tried  to  get  it  every 
month  to  send  to  my  wife  but  the  company  wouldn't 
pay  until  we  got  through." 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  9! 

"  How  has  your  wife  lived?" 

"  She's  took  in  washin'  and  ironin',  and  gone  out 
sewin'.  I  wrote  to  her  that  I  couldn't  get  any  money 
and  she  wrote  back,  'Never  mind,  Peter;  we'll  get 
along  some  way,  and  when  it  all  comes  we'll  pay  it 
on  our  home;'  and  again  the  man's  head  dropped  and 
the  tears  ran  down  his  face. 

"  "VThy  didn't  you  keep  away  from  the  salooD.  then?" 

"  I  meant  to  Judge,  but  the  boys  urged  me,  till  I 
finally  took  a  glass  of  beer.  I  didn't  mean  to  drink 
more  but  I  suppose  I  did.  I've  an  awful  appetite 
when  it  gets  started.  I  went  into  the  woods  where 
there  ain't  no  saloons  'cause  I  couldn't  let  drink 
alone. "  * 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  it  alone  then  when  you  came 
back?  You're  a  large,  strong  fellow,  and  ought  to 
be  a  man. " 

"I  know  it,  Judge,  but  I  aint  no  man;  I'm  only 
a  big  machine,  what  can't  run  itself.  When  I'm  in 
the  wild  woods  and  swamps,  where  there's  only 
deers,  squirrels  and  wild  animals,  I'm  all  safe;  but 
when  I  come  where  men  live  I  ain't  safe.  There's 
robbers  on  every  street  and  in  every  hotel,  boardin* 
house  and  restaurant. " 

**  But  you  can  be  a  man,  and  let  drink  alone. " 

"  Ko,  I  ca?rt,  yer  honor.  No  man  what's  got  my 
appetite  can.  Soon's  he  gets  into  the  city  he  smells 
the  drink  and  then  he  forgets  everythin'."  Then 
growing  more  eloquent  he  continued: 

"  There's  thousands  of  fellows  just  like  me,  Judge, 
— an  army  of  poor  men,  who  just  work,  and  work, 
and  try  to  be    men,  but    they    can't.     We  love  our 


GS  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

families,  our  children,  and  want  to  be  men,  but  all 
we  do  is  to  earn  money  and  pour  it  into  the  saloons. 
They're  placed  where  they'll  catch  us  every  time. 
They've  got  all  I've  earned,  and  1  hain't  anything  to 
carry  home  to  my  wife.  She's  all  fixed  up  now, 
waitin'  and  expectin'  me,  and  the  children  are  wait- 
in'  too.  I  hain't  kissed  them  for  ten  months  'cause 
I  couldn't  stay  where  the  saloons  are.  When  I  got 
two  hundred  dollars  yesterday,  Judge,  I  was  a  proud 
man,  and  thought  how  it  would  make  Mary's  eyes 
shine  when  I  put  it  all  into  her  hands.  It  don't  need 
more'n  one  saloon  in  such  a  city,  to  take  in  all  we 
follows  can  earn.  O  Judge  1  I'm  ruined  and  can't  go 
home.  Send  me  to  jail,  or  better,  to  the  state's 
prison, — anywhere  you  please;"  and  sitting  down, 
the  poor  man  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sob- 
bed convulsively. 

"Are  you  one  of  the  men  who  came  down  from  the 
woods  yesterday?"  asked  the  court  of  the  next. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  have  you  spent  all  your  money  in  the  sa- 
loons?" 

"It's  all  gone,  your  honor." 

Similar  questions  were  put  to  the  next  seven,  with 
like  results. 

"Where's  the  tenth  man?"  asked  the  judge. 

"Ned  Kittle  was  a  teetotal  fellow  and  skipped  for 
home  last  night, "  answered  one.  "We  all  promised 
to,  but  a  fellow  coaxed  us  in  and  treated  us  first.  We 
found  he  keeps  one  of  the  tony  saloons. " 

After  figuring  a  few  moments  the  judge  continued: 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  69 

"So  you've  lost  nearly  fifteen  hundred  dollars — nine 
of  vou.      Can't  you  learn  to  stay  away  hereafter?" 

No  one  answered,  but  tlie  doubtful  looks  exchanged 
showed  how  conscious  they  were  of  a  lack  of  will  pow- 
er sufficient  to  cope  with  their  common  enemy. 

"I'll  have  to  fine  you  ten  dollars  and  costs,  or  ten 
days  iu  jail,  for  the  city  can't  overlook  such  drunken- 
ness." was  the  court's  magnanimous  conclusion, 

The  remaining  men  were  bloated  drunkards,  with 
every  sense  of  manhood  apparently  burned  out,  and  as 
they  had  no  money,  of  course  wenl  to  jail.  Whatever 
they  earned  or  begged,  the  saloons  got,  while  the 
county  paid  a  periodic  bill  of  costs  of  from  three  to 
five  dollars  apiece. 

The  loggers'  fines  and  costs  amounted  to  about  fif- 
teen dollars  each,  and,  as  they  were  practically  penni- 
less, they,  too,  were  marched  off  to  the  lockup. 

I  followed  them  out,  with  my  heart  full  of  the  old 
bitterness.  A  few  blocks  from  the  City  Hall,  I 
passed  "The  Palace."  The  door  stood  open  and  I 
heard  the  glasses  clink,  while  the  atmosphere  was 
charo-ed  with  drink  odors. 

o 

I  had  left  Mr.  Wightman's,  buoyant  and  strong; 
but  the  scenes  in  court  depressed  me,  and  the  perfumes 
from  "The  Palace"  aroused  the  latent  fires. 

"Just  one  drink!"  cried  appetite,  and  I  stopped,  ir- 
resolute. Suddenly  a  hand  touched  me,  and  at  the 
words,  "  Come  on,  Joseph, "  a  strong  arm  and  resolute 
step  bore  me  along.  I  knew  the  voice,  but  before  I 
could  speak,  Mr.  Wightman  said: 

"T"m  going  to  see  how  Major  Wright  is.  Will  you 
come  with  me?" 


70  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

I  complied,  and  we  found  a  poor,  weak  fellow,  but 
the  "tremens"  was  gone. 

"O,  Wightman!"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  merchant 
shook  his  chained  hand ;  "  I  must  have  a  drink  or  die. 
They  won't  give  me  any." 

"No,  Major,  it  won't  do  now.  You  must  straighten 
up  for  I've  a  hot  fight  on  hand  and  shall  depend  on 
you.     You  never  failed  a  fellow  in  need,  did  you?" 

"JVb,  si>, "  came  the  emphatic  answer,  the  man  al- 
ready quieted  and  interested.      "What  is  it?" 

"I  haven't  time  to  tell  you,  but  my  friend,  Mr. 
Strong,  will.  Good-by  Major;"  and  the  busy  man 
hastened  away. 

As  the  victim  of  a  barbarous  civilization,  turned 
to  me  with  an  eager  look,  I  told  the  whole  story. 
When  I  finished,  he  exclaimed: 

"I'll  fi^x  them!  I  wish  you'd  go  and  get  me  the 
papers.  I'll  fight  the  fiends  for  Ben  Pitts  if  I  can'1 
for  myself.  Can  you  lend  a  helping  hand?"  and  he 
looked  up  inquiringly. 

"I'll  do  all  I  can,"  I  answered,  and   hurried   away. 

On  my  return,  he  exclaimed: 

"Say,  can't  you  get  these  fetters  off?" 

"I  guess  so,"  I  replied,  and  hastened  for  the 
jailor. 

A  few  moments  later,  as  the  chains  fell  clanking 
to  the  floor,  he  said: 

"  I  wish  I  was  in  my  office. " 

Then  a  thought  arrested  his  eagerness,  and  he 
laid  down  the  papers.  Looking  at  me  curiously,  he 
asked: 

'How  did  I  come  here?  Do  you  know?" 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  71 

"Yes,     but    that    would    better   wait  till    another 

time. " 

"  But  I  want  to  know  now.  Did  I  hurt  any  one? 
Tell  me  quickly;"'  and  he  grasped  my  wrist  imper- 
iously. 

"Gro  on!"  he  shouted,  as  I  hesitated.  "Did  I 
do  anything  to  my  wife  or  child?  Where  are  they 
now?  Tell  me." 

"You  would  have  killed  them  if  I  had  not  pre- 
Tented  you. " 

"Did  I  hurt  them?  Don't  torture  me  with  sus- 
pense;" and  his  voice  was  full  of  pleading. 

"Yes,  you  hurt  them,  but  I  haven't  seen  them 
since  last  night,  so  I  can't  tell  how  they  are." 

"Then  hurry  away  and  find  out,"  he  exclaimed 
with  a  quick  push.  "  Dont  be  gone  long,"  and  throw 
ing  himself  back  on  his  bed,  he  murmured  aloud : 

"Oh,  Rum,  thou  blighting  tyrant  1  Thou  hast  no 
regard  for  the  rich  or  poor,  the  bad  or  the  good. 
Thou  dost  gather  them  all  in,  broken  hearts,  blasted 
kopes,  bruised  bodies  and  ruined  souls.  Thy  chain? 
are  stronger  than  iron  and  surer  than  brass." 


72  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 


CHAPTER  XI. 


A    BREAK    IN    THE    CLOTTD. 

I  had  not  gone  far,  when  I  purchased  of  a  news- 
boy, the  leading  morning  papers,  and  scanned  their 
contents  for  the  previous  day's  happenings.  In  -''The 
Herald"  I  found  this  article: 

"POLITICS    IN     THE    PULPIT." 

"Yesterday  morning  at  Christ's  church,  the  con- 
gregation was  treated  to  a  new  departure.  Pastor 
Bliss  had  evidently  seen  some  fool  who  guzzled  whis- 
key till  he  was  crazy, and  attacked  his  friends.  The  min- 
ister went  for  the  saloons,  rough  shod,  condpmniD^ 
the  whole  traffic,  license  laws,  the  men  who  vote  for 
restrictions,  and  the  parties  that  make  it  possible  to 
regulate  the  evils.  He  accused  voters  and  laws,  par- 
ties and  leaders,  as  in  league  with  the  devil,  and 
stirred  up  a  hornet's  nest  which,  if  we  mistake  not, 
may  sting  him  out  of  his  very  comfortable  and  fat 
pastorate.  Men  attend  church  to  hear  sermons  not 
political  harangues.  Preachers  put  their  foot  in  it, 
whenever  they  try  to  instruct  in  questions  of  govern- 
ment and  public  policy.  We  trust  the  pastor  will 
quickly  recover  from  his  peeled  nose  and  bruised  ear, 
and  regain  his  equanimity." 

A  little  below  was  the  following: 

"a    COLD-WATER    CRANK." 

"  Emboldened  evidently,  Dy  Rev.  Bliss'  violent  Ian 
guage,  a  cold   water  crank  entered    the  church  yester 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  73 

day  afternoon,  at  the  close  of  communion  service,  and 
not  only  called  those  assembled,  whited-sepulchers, 
claiming  that  their  hands  were  red  with  blood,  but 
quoted  one  of  the  sacred  hymns  in  a  most  shocking 
manner.  He  skipped  out  before  the  police  arrived  or 
he  would  now  be  feeding  on  bread  and  water  at  the 
city's  expense.  Our  courts  don't  fool  much  with  such 
hair-brained  fanatics.  A  few  days  in  the  calaboose 
cools  them  off.  We  warn  this  man  and  his  blatherskite 
friends  to  go  slow. " 

In  another  column,  with  glowing  headlines,  ap- 
peared an  item  which  read : 

"  CRIME    IS    EPIDEMIC.  " 

"  Following  the  cranky  sermon  and  the  exciting 
scene  at  Christ's  church  yesterday  afternoon,  came 
the  culminating  act  of  crazed  fanaticism.  Ben  Pitts, 
a  low  drunkard,  stimulated  by  drink,  knocked  down, 
stamped  upon  and  kicked  Pat  Moran,  near  midnight, 
so  brutally  that  he  will  probably  die.  Lynch  la%  is 
none  too  good  for  such  a  fiend.  We  have  great  faith, 
however,  in  our  courts  and  officers  giving  him  the  full 
penalty  of  the  law.     A  warrant  is  out  for  his  arrest." 

Finding  nothing  further,  I  opened  "  The  News. " 
In  addition  to  reports  similar  to  the  above,  but  more 
highly  colored,  appeared  the  following: 

"   A  WHISKY    SELLER. 
HOW    THE    TRAFFIC   EMBRUTES    HIM.  " 

"  The  two  little  children  of  Ben.  Pitts  entered  Pat. 
Moran's  saloon  last  evening  and  inquired  for  their 
father.  Moran  was  so  angered  that  he  kicked  the  girl 
senseless    and     pitched     the    boy    headlong    into    the 


U  HIGH  JOE,  OR, 

street,  breaking  bones  and  nearly  killing  both.  They 
lie  at  home,  unconscious,  and  may  die.  Pitts  metad 
out  Moran's  punishment,  as  we  have  elsewhere  re- 
lated.     This  it  tU  fruit  of  tfi/i  dive.  " 

"  A    WHISKY    DRIKKZa. 
HOW    ALCOHOL    EMBSrTES    HIM.  * 

"Major  Wright,  in  a  •  rium  tremens.  Tester, 

day  noon,  knocked  dowL  „  c  .:e,  and  later,  dragged 
her  and  his  sweet  child  Elsie  around  the  house  by  the 
hair.  Only  the  interference  of  a  stranger  and  the 
prompt  arrival  of  the  t-  -^vented  a  double  mur- 

der.    The  girl  has  rec  as    »*o  sit  up,  but  the 

wife  is    still   unconscious.     Fears   are   enlertained  of  | 

brain  fever.      The  whisky  that  did  it  came  from  » The  I 

Palace  r      This  is  thefruxi  of  gilded  salooru,**  | 

"  A    WHISKT    PETTIFOGGZB.  | 

HOW    THI    TRAFFIC    XMB&UTES    THE   TOTEB. "  I 

"^We  overheard  a  lively  argument,  yesterday,  be. 
tween  a  fair  damse'  a-d  a  gray-haired  church  member. 
The  former  condemned  the  whole  license  svstem  and 
■eored  the  ninety-nice  voters  for  licensing  the  one 
kimdredth;  while  the  lart-er  apologized,  insisting  it 
was  regulation  and  restriction;  and  when  he  wm 
complet^y  cornered,  crawled  out  at  the  little  end  of 
the  horn,  by  saying,  •you  women  don't  understand 
these  things.  * 

"  While  we  have  always  stood  for  license,  we  ooma 
pretty  near  dropping  the  whole  thing  when  strong 
churchmen  apologize  for  it.  The  large  revenue  to 
the  city  is  all  that  prevents  us.  And  all  of  these 
tilings  are  the  results  of  putting  a  price     -  'he  most 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  V 

damnable  crime  of  the  centurj.  SeU  no€^  taste  not, 
and  sanctum  notj  is  eridentl j  the  onl j  waj  to  have  a 
lirelf  conscience,  for  it  gires  anj  man  who  does 
either,  a  seared,  tmsafe  monitor  in  his  heart.  The 
life-j^Ting  breath  of  heaTen  goes  oat  when  the  s/>ul 
aoorchiag  breath  of  hell  comes  in.  Bthold  one  day's 
record  of  licensed  damnatuyn  !  " 

T  had  been  reding  these  as  I  walked  along,  but 
now  3tc<4  still  in  amaiement.  Such  words  from  a 
wcI!-lcnowa  political  paper,  like  the  News,  showed 
that  the  drink  demon  might  go  so  far  as  to  drire 
awaj  his  strorigest  supportersw 

Recovering,  I  hurried  to  the  iIajor*8  home,  where 
mj  ring  was  answered  bjr  Alice  Wightman.  I  found 
the  report  I  had  read,  true,  and  the  doctor  would 
gire  no  assurance  of  tha  mother's  recovery. 

"  Little  hope,  little  hope,  *  were  his  most  emphatic 
words. 

In  spite  of  a  pleasant  smile  and  snbdned  «  goodbj* 
from  Alice,  as  I  hastened  down  the  steps,  I  detected 
an  intense  light  in  her  eye*,  that  betokened  how  deep 
was  her  sympathy  for  the  rictims  of  alcohol,  and  the 
hatred  aroused  against  the  destroyer. 

Marking  the  rarioos  articles,  I  handed  the  papers 
to  Major  Wright,  on  my  return,  saying,  •  those  will 
tell  yon  alL  "  His  eyes  quickly  scanned  one  after  an. 
other,  till  it  rested  on  "  A  Whisky  drinker.  * 

"  O,  God !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  have  I  killed  my  pa^ 
tient,  loring  Erangelxne?  Spare  her,  I  beseech  Thee, 
tnd  give  me  power  yet  to  prove  bow  I  lore  her  and 
my  sunny,  laughing  Eb^ie.  Help  me  to  break,  ths 
chains  of  appetite  and  yet  be  freeu" 


76  HIGH  JOE;  OH, 

I  stood  speechless  before  the  torture  I  beheld.  Sud- 
denly he  sat  up  and  almost  hissed  in  an  undertone: 

"Call  the  jailor;  call   the  jailor  I      Be  quick.  " 

As  I  returned  with  him,  the  excited  man  tapped 
the  paper  with  his  linger  and   said,    "  read  that. " 

*'  I  know  it  all,"  answered  the  officer,  coldly. 

"  Then  unfasten  my  feet  quickly  and  let  me  go. 
Shu's  dying — my  wife,  my  Evangeline.  I've  killed  her. 
Be  quick." 

The  jailor  hesitated  and  looked  at  me  inquiringly. 
This  was  too  much  for  the  grief-stricken  man,  and  he 
shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

"  Take —  these — devil  — chains  — off. — I'm — a — man 
— now!  Do  you  hear?  " 

"  You  unfasten  them  and  I'll  go  with  him,"  I  said, 
hurrying  out  to  find  a  carriage;  but  none  was  in 
sight.  Starting  to  return,  I  confronted  the  Major, 
hatless  and  coatless.  He  would  wait  for  nothing,  but 
hurried  down  the  steps,  fairly  dragging  me  along.  I 
insisted  on  his  walking  or  he  would  have  broken  into 
a  run.  Suddenly  he  saw  a  carriage  before  a  store,  and 
in  a  moment  the  horse  was  untied.  I  followed  him 
as  he  sprang  in,  and  we  went  flying  down  the  street 
at  a  break-neck  speed. 

'Twas  a  short  ride;  then  he  pulled  the  galloping 
hoise  up  at  the  block,  dropped  the  reins,  sprang 
over  the  wheels,  through  the  gate  and  up  the  steps 
like  a  madman.  I  was  close  behind,  fearing  I  must 
forcibly  stop  him,  when  he  suddenly  halted,  turned 
tho  knob  as  though  he  were  a  burglar,  and  hurried  in 
on  tip- toe.  He  seemed  to  know  just  where  to  go, 
and  before  any  one  could  interfere,  kneeled  at  his  un- 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  Tl 

concious  wife's  bedside.  With  the  tenderness  of  a 
mother,  he  laid  his  cheek  against  the  burning  temple, 
and  placing  his  arm  caressingly  over  the  still  form, 
sobbed  convulsively. 

Suddenly,  unnoticed  by  the  silent  friends,  the 
golden-haired  Elsie  crept  from  her  own  bed  and  knelt 
by  her  father.  As  if  by  instinct,  he  slipped  his  arm 
around  her,  and  the  broken,  suffering  family  was 
again  united.  One  by  one,  all,  except  the  physician, 
stole  away  with  moist  eyes,  that  the  hovering  angels 
of  life  and  peace  might  spread  their  heavenly  balm 
o'er  heart  and  soul. 

"But,  hark!  "  whispered  the  bitterness  in  my  heart. 
"  Did  ye  hear  that  fiendish  chuckle?  All  Hell  is  mak- 
ing raen'y,  for  they  know  that  the  chains  upon  the 
kneeling  slave  will  hold  him  captive;  and,  as  Rum's 
demons  dance  around  the  hissing,  howling  pit  of  woe, 
they  chant  in  gutteral  tones  of  glee: 

Laugh  and  sing,  laugh  and  sing; 
Earth  to  Hell  its  off'rings  bring. 
Love  and  light,  all  that's  bright, 
Soon  decay  before  my  blight. 
Fireside  altars  blaze  and  bum, 
But  their  joys  I  quickly  spurn. 
Hearts  of  love  soon  turn  to  hate, 
Then  they  find,  alas,  too  late, 
One  by  one,  I  gather  in 
All  that's  best,  destroyed  by  gin. 
Bar-rooms  here  and  bar-rooms  there, 
Traps  of  death  placed  every  were. 
I  have  fetters  strong,  and  there 
Are  a  hundred  places,  where, 
Day  by  day,  new  ones  are  forged. 
Till  the  gates  of  Hell  are  gorged. 


78  HIGH  JOE:  OR, 

Hearts  may  sorrow  till  their  gnei, 
Washed  in  tears,  shall  find  relief; 
Then  I'll  scourge  the  bondman  back 
Till  he  writhes  upon  the  rack. 

Laugh  and  sing,  laugh  and  sing; 
Christian  men  their  off'rings  bring, 
Licensing  my  work  of  woe, 
Everywhere  that  men  may  go. 

The  house  was  still  as  death,  save  here  and  there  a 
light  step.  The  two  kneeled  still  beside  the  bed.  At 
last  the  husband,  in  a  tender,  pleading  tone,  murmured: 

"Oh,  my  loved  Evangeline!  Will  you  not  come  back 
to  us  again,  if  only  that  I  may  look  into  .your  once 
happy  eyes  and  read  forgiveness?  The  accursed  bowl 
shall  never  touch  my  lips  again,  if  you  will  smile  once 
more  and  laugh  and  sing,  as  of  old.  Oh,  my  loved  one! 
Can  you  not  hear  my  pleading?" 

I  shall  never  forge'  the  solemnity  of  that  hour.  No 
one  whispered,  scarcely  breathed.  Suddenly  the  un- 
conscious head  turned  upon  the  pillow,  the  body 
moved,  and  a  white  arm  stole  slowly  out  and  wrapped 
itself  around  the  pleader's  neck,  so  lovingly  that  the 
doctor  also  withdrew  with  moist  eyes.  One  by 
one,  each  watcher  tip-toed  past  the  door  and 
viewed  the  sacred  sight,  none  daring  to  speak  or  mo- 
lest them,  while,  methinks,  the  angels  came  and  went, 
carrying  the  news  of  life,  love,  hope  and  home  to  heav- 
enly choirs  above. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY, 


CHAPTER  XIL 


MERITED    REBUKES. 

A  sudden  ring  of  the  door-bell  broke  the  oppressive 
stillness.  Alice  answered  it,  and  admitted  DeacoQ 
Jchns. 

"  I  have  just  heard,"  he  began,  "  of  the  assault  by 
Major  Wright,  and  I  came  to  see  his  victims.  How 
art)  »aey?" 

'•  They  are  improving,  we  hope, "  she  answered. 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  see  them,  for  I  sympathize  pro- 
foundly with  Mrs.   Wright, "  he  continued. 

"  Ye.s,"  said  Alice  dryly,  as  she  arose;  "  I  will  ask 
s^hether  they  can  be  seen. " 

"  By  the  way,"  added  he,  stopping  her,  "was  it  Iq 
this  parlor  that  the  Major  lay  drunk?" 

"  I  presume  so, "  she  answered,  hastening  out. 

As  if  he  divined  her  coming,  the  kneeling  man,  who 
had  heard  all,  looked  up,  saying: 

"  Let  him  in,  if  the  doctor  does  not  object.  Make 
no  explanations. " 

Hearing  the  remark,  the  physician  noted  the 
strengthening  pulse  for  a  moment,  and  his  face 
brightened,  as  he  said: 

"  She  is  much  better;  he  may  come." 

A  moment  later,  the  deacon  entered  and  halted  before 
the  strange  scene.  As  he  stood  there,  not  knowing 
what  to  say,  the  eyes  of  the  injured  woman  opened, 
and,  with  a  smile,  she  said: 

*'  Good  afternoon.  Deacon.     Will  you  be  seated?" 


10  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"I  can't  stop  long,"  was  the  rather  stiff  reply. 
••  Came  in  to  see  how  you  and  Elsie  are. " 

"  Were  you  deeply  interested?"  asked  the  Major  in 
a  tone  of  mingled  contempt  and  sarcasm. 

"  I  was  very  much  interested  in  them  and  yourself." 

"  Hadn't  much  interest  at  election  time  last  spring, 
had  you?"  and  the  bloated  face  looked  around  with  in- 
creasing scorn. 

"  You  were  not  in  trouble  then,    were  you  Major?" 

"  Wasn't  I,  Deacon?  Isn't  a  man  who  has  a  drunk- 
ard's fetters  on  him,  in  trouble?" 

"  I  presume  he  is ;  but,  thank  God,  I  don't  know  from 
my  own  experience. " 

"  And  knowing  our  bondage,  you  worked  and  voted 
for  licensing  as  many  of  the  poison-venders  as  would 
pay  the  price.  Had  you  any  interest  in  us  poor  fel- 
lows and  our  blighted  families  then.^  or  is  it  only 
aroused  when  we  have  done  some  awful  deed?  There 
are  more  than  a  thousand  voters  in  this  city,  whose 
so-called  sympathy, — like  yours, — comes  too  late.  A 
religion  that  allows  its  votaries  to  license  the  de- 
stroyer, and  then  run  after  his  victims  with  crocodile 
tears,  won't  redeem  men  very  fast.  I  and  my 
blighted  family,  with  hundreds  of  others,  are  the  fruits 
of  such  unchristian  civilization.  It  is  more  cruel  than 
the  beastly  idol- worship  that  made  the  ancients  throw 
their  innocent  children  into  the  red-hot  arms  of  a 
soulless  Moloch.  Henceforth  I  hope  to  live  sober,  and 
were  it  not  for  these  open  dens,  I  know  I  could  sue 
ceed. " 

I  stood  where  I  could  see  the  Deacon's  face,  and 
knew  that  the  Major's  words  were  arousing  only  feel- 


IIIE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  81 

ings  of  anger.      Too  courteous  to  interrupt,  he  waited, 
and  then  answered  coldly: 

"You  are  in  no  condition  to-day,  Mr.  Wrio-ht,  for 
reasonable  conversation.  Some  other  time  we  may 
talk  these  matters  over;"  and  with  this  he  bowed  him- 
self out. 

Xn  hour  later,  the  doctor  announced  Mrs.  Wright 
out  of  danger,  and  the  Major  appeared,  clothed  and 
ready  for  work. 

"Can  you  go  with  me  to  my  office?"  he  asked.  "My 
appetite  is  crying  for  drink,  and  nothing  but  work 
and  excitement  can  keep  it  down.      I  want  your  help. " 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  and  we  hurried  to  the  of- 
fice. 

"These  rooms  bespeak  the  condition  of  their  owner, " 
he  remarked,  opening  the  windows,  and  dusting  and 
arranging  his  disordered  desk.  Then  sinking  into  an 
easy  chair,  he  said : 

"Now  tell  me  about  that  affair,  again.  It  seems 
like  a  dream. " 

As  I  seated  myself,  the  unnatural  glare  of  his  eyes 
startled  me,  the  muscles  in  his  face  twitched  conv^als- 
ively,  the  color  came  and  went,  and  I  knew  from  these 
signs  and  my  own  thirst  how  fearful  was  his  conflict. 
For  half  an  hour  I  pictured  as  vividly  as  possible  all 
I  had  seen,  till  appetite  was  driven  into  the  back- 
ground. 

"  I  wish  you  could  get  the  papers  I  left  at  the  jail, ' 
he  said  languidly  as  I  finished. 

"  Will  you  stay  here  while  I'm  gone?"  I  asked. 


82  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"  Yes,  I'll  rest.  I'm  very  weak  and  tired;"  and  he 
closed  his  eyes. 

I  hesitated  a  moment,  but  as  he  said  no  more, 
started  out,  only  to  go  a  few  blocks  before  I  waa 
stopped  by  the  thought,  "  What  if  his  cravings  should 
overcome  himl  " 

Meeting  a  small  boy,  I  sent  him,  and  hurried  back. 
As  I  sprang  up  the  front  stairway,  rapid  steps  de- 
scended at  the  rear  of  the  hall.  A  glance  into  the 
vacant  office  convinced  me  that  my  fears  were  realized, 
and  I  hastened  after  the  Major.  The  back  door  of  the 
"Palace"  stood  open,  and  I  rushed  in  only  to  see  him 
before  the  long,  polished  bar,  leaning  forward,  and, 
with  outstretched  hands,  demanding:  "Give  mo 
whiskey,  quick,  quick;  give  me  whiskey!" 

The  white-aproned  dispenser  of  death  poured  the 
drink  from  a  long,  black  bottle,  and  handed  it  to  the 
wild  man.  With  a  yell,  I  reached  his  side  in  time 
to  dash  the  glass  from  his  hand  so  forcibly  as  to  send 
it  across  the  bar  into  a  large  plate  mirror,  shivering 
it  from  top  to  bottom. 

"Major  Wright;  are  you  crazy  1"  I  exclaimed, 
grasping  him  by  the  arm.  Then,  not  heeding  a  vol- 
ley of  oaths  from  the  bartender,  I  turned,  hoping  to 
lead  the  surprised  man  away;  but  the  honor  of  that 
high-toned  inferno  had  been  too  deeply  insulted  to  be 
passed  over  lightly,  and  the  next  instant  a  heavy 
wine-glass  grazed  my  head  and  struck  the  Major 
above  the  ear,  felling  him  to  the  floor. 

Before  the  defender  of  Rum's  sanctuary  could  es- 
cape, T  grasped  him  by  the  collar  and  ^'erked  him 
headlong  over  the  bar;  then,  seeing  the  Major's  pros- 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  63 

tiate    body,  I  found  a  pail    of  ice    water,  and    began 
bathing   his  bleeding  head. 

At  this  moment,  the  ponderous  form  of  Col.  Bray- 
darkened  the  door,  and,  surveying  the  scene,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  TVhat's  up  now?     Whose  work  is  this?" 

The  obsequious  servant  hastened  forward  to  ex- 
plain, at  which  the  man  of  high-licensed  pomposity 
and  power  advanced  toward  me,  with  upraised  cane,, 
exclaiming : 

"  "What  did  you  strike  him  for,  you  villain?  Get 
out  of  here!" 

"Look  out,  Col.  Bray,'  1  said  standing  erect; 
"  don't  charge  the  villainy  of  your  lackey  to  me. " 

"  Xone  of  your  trying  to  lie  out  of  it.  You've 
murdered  the  Major,"  he  shouted;  and  his  heavy  cane 
descended  so  forcibly  as  to  shiver  it  on  my  upraised 
ann,  leaving  little  but  the  gold  head  in  bis  hand. 

Instinctively,  acting  on  the  'first  law  of  life, '  I 
planted  my  foot  in  the  center  of  his  corporosity  with 
such  force  as  to  double  him  up  at  the  base  of  the  bar. 

"Police,  Police!"  shouted  the  bar-tender,  rushing 
to  the  door:  but  I  grasped  him  with  more  force  than 
he  relished,  and  seated  him  in  a  chair,  with  instruc- 
tions to  keep  quiet. 

Two  ofBcers  entered,  a  moment  later,  and  springing 
to  his  feet,  the  white  aproned  man  exclaimed,  point- 
ing at  me: 

"There's  the  villain;  he's  murdered  Major  TTri^lit 
and  done  up  the  Colonel !  " 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  a<ked  one,  approaching 
where  I  wa?^  bathing  the  bleeding  wound. 


84  '  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

While  I  explained,  the  talkative  drink- mixer  gave 
the  other  officer  his  version.  I  discovered  at  once 
that  the  two  were  pretty  "  full, "  and  my  listener's 
incredulous  look  told  where  was  the  sympathy  of  the 
law's  protectors.  As  I  finished,  he  called  to  his  com- 
panion: 

"  Mike,   go  for  a  doctor. " 

Col.  Bray  regained  his  feet,  and  between  pain, 
cramps  and  oaths,  joined  in  his  bartender's  condem- 
nation of  me  as  the  only  culprit. 

In  a  short  time  the  physician  arrived,  and  as  he 
examined  the  wound,    said: 

"  What  have  you  given  him?" 

"  Nothing, "  I  answered.  "  He  is  just  over  the 
tremens  and  mustn't  have  any  alcohol.  He  is  trying 
to  break  off. " 

"  That  doesn't  matter;  he  must  have  some  brandy," 
answered  the  doctor. 

"  Not  while  I'm  here.  I'm  ais  friend  and  shall 
protect  him,"  I  replied. 

"  Then  we'll  take  him  where  he  has  no  fool  friends 
to  interfere,"  was  the  insulting  retort,  and  all  joined 
in  a  laugh. 

The  Colonel,  after  filling  a  glass,  handed  it  to  the 
physician. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  stepping  before  him,  "there 
are  five  of  you,  but  it  will  be  costly  for  the  man  who 
attempts  to  give  Major  Wright  any  of  that. " 

"Boys,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel  angrily,  "take  the 
piesumptuous  fool  to  the  lock-up.  We  haven't  any 
use  for  him ;  '  and  the  officers  tried  to  obey. 

Stepping  back,  I  said :  "Keep  hands  off.      Col.  Bray 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  SL 

cnn't  sent  me  to  jail  and  let  his  guilty  servant  escape. 
He  is  the  one  you  would  arrest,  were  you  not  political 
slaves. " 

But  the  officers  were  too  reckless  to  heed  my  warn- 
ing, and  made  a  vigorous  onslaught. 

I  knew  that  some  one  entered,  but  saw  only  my 
assailants,  whom,  with  heavy  blows,  I  sent  reeling 
in  opposite  directions.  Then  seeing  the  doctor  about 
to  place  a  glass  to  the  unconscious  man's  lips,  I 
hurled  him  headlong  toward  the  door. 


86  3IGH  JOE;  OR 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


A  REALISTIC  DREAM. 

My  grasp  upon  the  doctor  was  not  In  time  to 
wholly  thwart  his  purpose.  Scarcely  had  the  brandy 
touched  the  unconscious  man's  lips,  when  his  eyes 
opened  and  he  attempted  to  rise.  Taking  one  arm,  I 
was  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Wightman  assist  on  the 
other  side.  As  we  steadied  him  to  his  feet,  he  looked 
wildly  around  till  he  saw  the  white  aproned  waiter, 
when  he  exclaimed,  beseechingly: 

"Oh,  do  give  me  some  drink!" 

"No,  Major;  you  have  been  hurt  and  must  go  home 
at  once;  come  on,  "  said  the  merchant,  starting 
toward  the  door. 

The  injured  man  was  too  weak  to  offer  resistance 
but  groaning,  said : 

"I  must  have  a  drink;  I'm  dying  for  one  glass. 
Oh,  let  me  go  just  a  moment  1" 

The  officers  had  followed  us  to  the  walk,  and  as  we 
placed  the  Major  in  a  carriage,  again  tried  to  take 
me. 

"No,"  said  the  merchant,  emphatically,  stepping 
in  front  of  them;  "I'll  see  that  he  is  on  hand  when- 
ever you  need  him.  Better  try  your  hand  on  the 
law-breakers  inside;"  and  with  a  command  to  drive 
to  the  Major's,  we  left  the  city's  gilded  bar-room. 

Passing  by  Dr.  Brouson's  offiice,  Mr.  Wightman 
took  him  in,  and  we  were  soon  in  the  lawyer's  private 


TEE  LOGGERS  STORY.  87 

library.     When  the    wound    was    dressed,   the  former 
said: 

"Now  tell  us  how  it  all  happened,  Joseph.  How 
did  you  come  to  be  in  The  Palace?" 

"Xever  mind  how  we  got  there,"  I  answered, 
noting  the  look  of  shame  and  weakness  on  the  Major's 
face.  "That  bartender  became  angry  and  threw  a 
glass,  but  it  missed  me. " 

"I  was  so  wild  that  I  had  gone  there  and  was 
about  to  drink,  when  Mr.  Strong  rushed  in  and 
dashed  the  cup  away,  breaking  a  mirror;"  interrupted 
the  wounded  man.  "I  can't  let  it  alone  for,  I'm  liter- 
ally afire.  If  you  were  not  here,  I  would  go  back  if 
I  had  to  crawl  on  my  knees.     I  must  have  one  glass.  ** 

"And  kill  your  wife  next  time?"    asked  the  doctor. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  pain  that  passed 
over  his  face  at  the  question,  but  it  was  quickly 
followed  by  hard,  hopeless  lines,  a^  he  answered : 

"No,  I'd  drink  and  die,  or  kill  myself.  I'm  ruined, 
lost. " 

"Then  we'll  keep  you  here  till  your  are  a  strong 
man  again,"  said  Mr.  Wightman.  "We  need  you 
and  your  wife  needs  you.     Will  you  help  us?" 

"I  can't  help  anybody,  but  I'll  let  you  stand  on 
guard  if  you'll  drive  off  the  devils  who  have  bound 
me,"  was  his  hopeless  reply. 

"All  right,  then;  we'll  make  them  find  other  quar- 
ters, "  was  the  cheery  answer.  "Joseph  will  stay  with 
you  till  night,  and  then  I'll  be  on  hand.  Remember, 
I  am  depending  on  you;"  and  the  merchant  took  his 
departure. 

The  afternoon  was  :\    wild    one.     Some  times  I  re- 


88  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

tained  my  prisoner  only  by  superior  strength.  At 
times  he  pleaded  for  drink,  and  at  others  swore  and 
cursed,  rendered  doubly  frantic  by  the  few  drops 
that  had  passed  his  lips. 

I  was  glad  when  I  saw  the  merchant  and  doctor 
enter,  in  the  early  twilight,  and  with  no  reluctance, 
resigned  my  charge  and  hurried  home,  where  Alice 
greeted  me. 

The  evening  meal  was  eaten  under  the  charm  of 
her  bright  eyes,  and  the  hours  slipped  by  unheeded. 
From  the  story  of  the  day,  we  drifted  on  to  deeper 
thoughts,  and  I  learned  that  Alice  Wightman  was  a 
prize  far  richer  than  I  had  dreamed. 

The  thoughts  of  the  evening,  colored  by  the  events 
of  the  past  few  days,  shaped  my  dreams,  but  in  so 
wild  and  weird  a  fashion  that  I  must  relate  them; 

I  was  awakened,  I  thought,  by  strange  sounds,  aa 
tho'Jgh,  below  the  ground,  men  were  hurrying  along 
with  clanking  chains,  laughing,  jabbering  and  shout- 
ing in  a  demoniacal  way.  I  went  out  to  learn  what 
it  all  meant,  but  seeing  no  one  in  our  part  of  the 
city,  hastened  down  town.  The  noise  increased,  till 
a  turmoil  seemed  raging  in  the  saloons.  Suddenly 
the  doors  flew  open,  and  from  every  den  of  vice, 
emerged  a  band  of  imps.  With  wild  gesticulations 
and  antics,  they  hurried  away  over  the  city,  each 
carrying  on  his  shoulder  a  pair  of  fetters  and  in  his 
hand  a  cup  of  blood-red  liquid. 

I  followed  one  troup  closely,  curious  to  know  their 
mission.  No  sooner  were  they  storied  than  they  be- 
gan sprinkling  everything  withi  the  liquid,  and  the 
drops  shone  bright  for  a  moment,  then  sank  from  sight. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  8& 

Suddenly  they  halted  in  front  of  Mr.  Wightman's 
store.  The  building,  walk,  and  street  to  the  center, 
glowed  as  though  a  furnace  burned  below. 

"Try  it,"  whispered  one;  and  as  a  few  drops  fell 
upon  the  walk,  they  hissed  and  fried  as  though  on  a 
stove. 

"Wipe  it  off  or  it  will  show  tomorrow;  he's  a  true 
enemy,"  commanded  the  leader. 

When  it  was  done,  all  passed  around  the  glow.ng 
surface,  and  continued  the  march. 

The  Mayor,    aldermen,     police   officers,    judge    and 

'sheriff,  received  unusual  attention,  the  imps  mounting 

trees  and  buildings,    and    sprinkling    everything  with 

the  Lethean   liquid,    some   even   entering  the  houses, 

that  their  work  might  be  sure. 

Thus  the  night  wore  on,  other  glowing  walks,  now 
and  then,  causing  a  tramp  into  the  street.  At  such 
places,  I  thought  I  saw  faces  peering  from  the  win- 
dows, as  though  the  inmates  were  on  guard. 

Occasionally,  on  passing  a  hovel  like  Ben  Pitt's  or 
a  palace  like  the  Major's,  some  strong  imp  unloosed  a 
pair  of  fetters  and  disappeared  through  a  rent  in  the 
wall,  only  to  return  a  moment  later,  unburdened  and 
gleeful. 

Reaching  "Christ's  church,"  a  "file  right"  order 
was  given,  and  the  whole  company  stopped  on  the 
large  stone  steps.  Then  the  door  flew  open,  at  the 
leader's  knock,  and  all  hurried  in,  scrambling  over 
and  under  pews,  into  the  gallery,  organ  loft,  choir 
seats  and  prayer-room.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  cry,  and 
saw  the  leader  tearing  around  in  front  of  the  pulpit. 
As  I  looked  for  the    cause,    I    observed  that  the  ros- 


30  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

trum,  pulpit,  chair  and  bible  glowed,  and  that  he 
had  carelessly  wandered  behind  the  sacred  desk^ 
leaving  his  foot-prints  on  the  hot  surface. 

"  I  didn't  expect  it,"  he  hissed,  seating  himself  in 
a  front  pew.  "It  never  was  so  before.  Can  it  be 
that  we  have  not  given  this  pulpit  enough  attention, 
and  the  pastor  proposes  to  be  true  to  his  Master? 
Don't  fail  to  give  the  other  pulpits  more  attention, 
hereafter,  my  men.  It  won't  do  to  lose  them.  While 
they  are  kept  quiet  we  are  safe.  And  don't  forget  the 
pews.  Charge  them  well  to-night.  Perhaps  they 
may  yet  cool  off  this  pulpit.  If  not,  there'll  be  hot 
pews  soon." 

"  There  are  some  already,  "  cried  a  little  fellow, 
near  by,  and  he  emerged  from  Dr.  Bronson's,  with 
iiands  and  feet  well  burned. " 

"  And  here's  one  too,"  cried  another,  in  the  aisle 
before  Mr.  Wightman's. 

"And  here's  a  hot  choir-chair,"  cried  a  third. 

"What-has-happened-to  this  church?"  queried  the 
leader.  "Some  Christian  must  have  been  awakened 
lately.  The  next  thing  will  be  a  stir  in  politics. 
Strange  how  much  trouble  one  wide  awake  disciple  of 
the  fearless  Nazarene  can  make  us.  We've  hard  work 
on  hand  to  stamp  out  this  small  insurrection.  They'll 
be  trying  to  save  the  drunkards  and  destroy  the  sa- 
loons, the  first  thino-  we  know.  We  Tnust  have  the 
help  of  the  ministers,  deacons  and  church  members. 
At  least  they  must  be  kept  quiet.  License  is  imj^os- 
sible  without  them.  Do  you  heai\  my  men?  MarJx:  well 
the  courageous  ones.  Prepare  to  torture  them.  Now  to 
the  work!" 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  91 

For  half  an  hour, the  blood  of  the  city's  victims  was 
applied  to  every  nook  and  corner,  pew,  wall,  organ, 
bell,  bible  and  hymn  book,  till  the  imps  laughed  and 
danced  in  high  carnival. 

One  church  after  another  was  visited,  with  seldom 
a  hot  pew,  and  no  more  hot  pulpits.  Here  and  there 
a  little  warmth  was  detected  but  not  enoucrh  to  trou. 
ble  the  workers,  except  to  call  for  a  heavier  applica- 
tion of  the  conscience-stifler. 

One  little-plain-built  church  was  passed,  but  every- 
thing about  it  glowed  so  that  no  one  dared  approach. 

"Gone  for  good, "  said  the  leader.  "They  are  few 
In  numbers  and  poor,  but  there's  no  compromise  or 
quarter  in  pulpit  or  pew.  We  tried  for  a  long  time 
to  quench  the  growing  fire,  but  the  well  worn  bibles 
showed  they  had  learned  duty  to  God  and  love  to 
men,  and  we  gave  it  up.  Since  then  we  have  striven 
to  keep  them  ostracised,  boycotted,  and  poor.  DonH 
fail^  ye  soldiers  of  darkness^  to  note  any  growing 
\cannth.      Keep  the  churches  quiet!" 

The  newspaper  offices  were  reached,  and  everything 
examined. 

"This  is  a  cold  old  rri^hine, "  said  the  leader,  plac- 
ing his  hand  on  "The  Herald's"  large,  power-press; 
"and  the  last  edition  is  damp  with  the  mildew  of  bell. 
Grand  thing  to  have  such  such  sheets  go  into  the 
homes  of  this  city  every  day,  Wet  'em  down,  ye 
true  sons  of  the  pit;"  and  in  and  out  among  the  bales 
and  boxes  of  paper,  the  faithful  soldiers  of  Bacchus 
hurried,  applying  their  cursed  liquid  to  everything. 
In  "The  News"  office  they  lingered  longer.  "Thinors 
are  a  little  warm  here,"  said  the  ^eader.      "The  editor 


92  lUOH  JOE;  OR, 

evidently  forgot  himself  and  his  duty  to  his  party,  In 
the  last  edition.  There's  a  whole  insurrection  in  it, 
if  not  quelled.      Do  your  duty,  my  men." 

As  daylight  touched  the  east,  the  troops  hurried  in 
I  followed  my  company  through  "The  Palace"  door 
and  behind  the  bar,  where  we  entered  a  dark  passage. 
With  hisses  and  hoots,  the  imps  went  rolling,  tumb- 
ling and  jumping  downward.'  Suddenly  we  emerged 
into  a  mighty  under-ground  cavern,  where  were  al- 
ready assembled  hundreds  of  similar  troopers. 
Around  the  spacious  room  they  ranged  themselves, 
when  at  a  command,  each  turned  his  face  outward, 
doors  in  the  wall  flew  open,  and  all  sprang  into  the 
dark  chambers.  Then  sounds,  as  of  bones  rattling, 
were  heard,  and  the  host  returned,  dragging  a  thou- 
sand skeletons  with  limbs  gone,  ribs  broken,  spines 
deformed,  and  skulls  crushed,  into  the  arena.  Quickly 
they  were  ranged,  by  a  curious  framework,  in  com- 
pact  ranks  like  an  army,  and  then,  as  this  ante-room 
of  Hell  grew  quiet,  the  great  Gambrinus  shouted,  in 
a  voice  that  made  the  dripping  walls  echo  and  re- 
echo: 

"Behold  your  work,  ye  conquering  host!  Death, 
Pestilence  and  Age  are  puny  warriors,  in  comparison 
with  you,  ye  legions  of  Bacchus  and  Gambrinus, 
Man  is  now  thy  lawful  prey ;  but  the  day  comes  when 
the  scepter  shall  be  given  to  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and 
his  kingdom  shall  redeem  all  hearts,  lighten  the  dark 
places,  break  every  fetter,  and  wipe  away  the  last 
tear.  Shout  aloud,  ye  doomed  victors,  and  curse  man 
and  God.     Shout,  I  sayl" 

A I  this    command,  the    demons    yelled    and  hissed, 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  93 

cursed  and  blasphemed,  with  the  wildest  fury  of  lost 
angels;  and  round  and  round,  grasping  the  rattling 
skeletons  of  their  victims  in  their  hideous  arms,  they 
danced.      At  the  commotion,  I  awoke. 


HIGH  JOE;  OB, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


DRIVE    ON    YOUR    BONE    WAGON. 

"Pretty  near  bed  time,  isn't  it  boys?"  asked  High 
Joe,  as  his  listeners  changed  positions  at  the  close 
of  the  dream. 

"Never  mind  bed  time,  bejabers.  I'll  sit  up  aU 
night  if  you  don't  run  down  sooner,"  said  Pat 
Kinney. 

"You  bet  I"  exclaimed  the  Yankee. 

"Zee  Frenchman  likes  ze  wine,  but  ze  serpent  bites 
zare,  too.  I  zinks  I  beez  a  demperance  vanatic  wen 
ze  great  story  eze  done.  Go  on,  Monsieur;  I  eze 
awake  vor  tree  hours  more,"  was  the  voluble  but 
earnest  expression  of  the  little  Canadian. 

"It  is  only  a  little  after  eleven,  Joseph, "  said  the 
Colonel,  "but  perhaps  we  would  better  wait  until 
Saturday.  I'll  come  over  in  the  afternoon,  \i  you 
will  complete  the  story  during  the  evening  and  next 
day?  All  will  be  glad  to  hear  it.  What  do  you  say, 
boys?" 

"We  want  the  story  as  soon  as  possible,"  siud  a 
teamster. 

"Yes,  sir;  before  the  kettle  quits  boiling  I"  ex. 
claimed  the  cook. 

"St.  Patrick  and  the  Virgin,  but  01 '11  be  there!" 
broke  in  Pat. 

"All  right.  I'll  be  on  hand,  if  you  think  ix  worth 
listening  to.      I'm  afraid  you    won't   enjoy  all  I    have 


TEE  LOGGERS  STORY.  96 

^)  tell.     Good  night,  boys;"  and  High  Joe  started  for 
his  bunk. 

There  was  something  about  the  bearing  of  the  man 
— his  tall,  erect  figure,  firm  step,  and  air  of  self-con- 
trol — that  made  all  eyes    follow  him  with  admiration^ 

"He  don't  look  as  though  he  had  any  very  sad 
story  to  tell  about  himself, "  remarked  a  gray-headed 
chopper. 

"Naw. "  said  the  Yankee;  "be  a  joke  if  he  should 
*seir  us." 

"He  ain't  one  of  the  'sell'  kind,"  said  Pat. 

"Ze  deep  water  runs  still,  an'  zee  big  heart  eze 
like  ze  big  oak  wiz  ze  deep  roots.  Zay  go  below  ze 
storms, "    remarked  the  Canadian,  soberly. 

"You  are  right,     'Frenchy, '"  said    the   Colonel,    as 
-he  rose  to  go;  "he's    genuine    to  the    core  and  won't 
tell  anything  for  effect.     All  he  says,  he  has  seen. " 

Quietly  the  company  dispersed,  a  deep  thoughtful- 
iiess  resting  on  every  face.  To  maiiy,  a  new  view  of 
the  nation's  great  evil  had  been  opened,  and  it  stir- 
red hearts  full  of  scars  and  sores  from  conflict  with  the 
tempter. 

Among  the  first  to  tmm  out  in  the  morrow's  gray 
dawn,  was  High  Joe.  As  he  greeted  the  ' '  boys, ' '  an 
Tiir  of  conscious  strength,  at  peace  with  the  world  and 
his  own  heart,  breathed  from  every  word  and  motion, 
and,  at  the  head  of  the  crew,  he  led  the  way  to  the 
"  chopping, "   half  a  mile  distant. 

With  none  of  the  bluster  and  noise  of  his  predeces- 
sor, the  new  forem-au  dropped  his  shining,  long  handled 
ax  iu    the  snow  at  the    foot    of  a  huge    pine.      As  the 


9G  HIGH  JOE:  OR, 

others  halted,  he  said,  laying  off  his  corduroy  roust- 
about. 

"Boys,  can  I  fell  that  giant  in  half  an  hour?" 

"Guess  yees  can,  boss,"  said  Pat;  "but  no  other 
man  can. " 

"Xo  matter;  do  your  best  boys,"  was  the  assur- 
ing answer,  as  he  grasped  his  keen  cutter,  and  half 
buried  it  in  the  pitchy  pine,  at  one  blow. 

All  understood  the  import  of  his  words,  and  two 
score  axes  were  soon  ringing  their  chop,  chop  In  the 
clear  morning  air.  It  was  inspiring  to  these  boys  of 
the  forest,  as  they  stopped  occasionally  to  breathe, 
and  glanced  admiringly  toward  the  great  tree,  tc 
see,  unerring  and  steady,  the  iorem.an's  blade  making 
the  yellow  chips  fly  in  showers. 

Before  the  half  hour  had'  passed,  a  creak,  a  crack, 
and  a  "swish"  were  heard  in  quick  succession,  and 
the  giant  struck  the  earth  so  forcibly  as  to  make  all 
the  neighboring  trees  tremble.  Every  ax  was  still 
as  the  victor  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow, 
saying: 

"I'll  look  after  the  teams  now." 

As  he  shouldered  his  ax  and  started  toward  the 
"skidways, "  a  feeling  of  loyalty  to  the  new  leader 
and  a  determination  to  do  his  best,  warmed  every 
man's  heart. 

The  days  passed  quickly  and  pleasantly,  and  tow. 
ard  sundown,  Saturday  evening,  all  were  reminded 
of  High  Joa's  promise,  by  the  jingle  of  the  Colonel's 
sleigh  bells. 

"Guess    you    boys  better    quit    a    little    early  to- 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  97 

Qight,"  were  the  fiist   words    that    greeted  the  chop- 
pers as  the  Colonel  approached. 

"How's  the  new  foreman,  Frenchy, "  he  queried,  as 
the  little  man  looked  up. 

"He  iz  ze  first  class  boss,  ze  dandy  foreman, "  an- 
swered the  impulsive  fellow. 

"You  bet!"  exclaimed  the  Yankee,  approaching  the 
sleigh. 

"All  right;  glad  to  hear  it.  Guess  vou've  done 
good  work.  Come  on;"  and  the  bells  jingled  mer- 
rily  toward  the  camp. 

"Good  foreman,  good  men, "  remarked  Pat,  as  they 
formed  in  double  ranks  and  followed. 

The  supper  was  flavored  with  good  things  brought 
by  the  Colonel,  and  at  seven  o'clock,  the  room  was 
cleared  and  packed  with  men,  ready  for  the  story. 

The  air  was  crisp  without,  and  the  sides  of  the 
long  stove  were  red  from  a  roaring  fire.  As  the  chief 
of  the  gathering  took  his  seat,  no  sign  indicated 
aught  but  the  usual  self- composure.  Each  read  in 
his  sober  face  and  clear  eyes  a  deeper  desire  than 
that  of  a  mere  story  teller — as  the  Yankee  had  put 
it,  "no  yarner."     Continuing  the  story,  he  said: 

My  dream  was  too  vivid  and  the  meaning  of  its  in- 
cidents too  deep  to  allow  further  sleep;  accordingly 
I  dressed  and  rambled  forth  in  the  gray  dawn.  Wait- 
ing at  the  saloon  doora  or  going  thither,  I  met  more 
than  a  score  of  men  after  their  morning  "nip." 
"Poor  fellows,"  I  thought,  "there's  no  help  for  you 
while  saloons  remain." 

I  knew   their    feelings    or,  as    they    say,    ''how  the 
7 


98  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

hair  pulls,"  when  the  influence  of  the  evening's  de- 
bauch begins  to  wear  off.  With  a  picture  of  bloate^ 
faces,  bleared  eyes,  red  noses  and  shambling  foot- 
steps before  my  eyes,  I  strolled  on,  till  I  was  in 
front  of  Ben  Pitts'. 

Entering  the  dingy  rooms,  I  found  the  anxious  pa- 
rents watching  their  bruised  little  ones.  Each  had 
become  conscious,  but,  in  spite  of  the  doctor's  dress- 
ing and  medicine,  was  suffering  severely.  As  I  sat 
near  the  father  and  watched  his  sad,  careworn  face,  I 
said: 

"Brutal  business,  Ben,  this  liquor  selling,  no  mat- 
ter how  high  the  license?" 

"Brutal?"  he  queried,  looking  up  savagely;  "do 
you  call  that  brutal?"  and  he  pointed  toward  the 
broken  bodies  on  the  straw  bed.  "I  call  it  devilish." 
Hell  is  waiting,  hungry  for  the  Judases  who  sell 
their  fellows  for  such  a  price;"  and  he  relapsed  into 
silence. 

After  sitting  a  few  moments,  I  went  out,  saying 
to  myself:  "If  Christian  men  don't  stop  this  terrible 
work  soon,  its  victims  will  make  a  bloody  hades  of 
the  boasted  republic.  Let  Christian  America  beware, 
and  that  without  delay. " 

Purchasing  a  morning  Herald,  I  glanced  over  its 
associated  press  news — long  political  articles;  two 
columns  devoted  to  a  prize  fight;  three  divorce  suits, 
disclosing  the  vileness  of  "fast"  men  and  society 
women ;  two  elopements,  one  a  girl  of  rich  parents  with 
a  colored  hostler,  and  the  other,  a  belle  of  fashion, 
wild  with  euchre  parties  and  balls,  with  a  noted 
gambler  J  and  five  murders  by  drunken  or  craved  men. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  9y 

Among  church  announcements,  was  a  call  for  all  the 
deacons  and  trustees  of  Christ's  Church  to  meet  at 
three  o'clock  that  day  on  important  business. 

"The  homes  of  this  city  will  soon  be  devouring 
these  delectable  dishes,"  I  said  with  disgust;  and 
crumpling  the  paper,  threw  it  into  the  gutter. 

I  found  the  Major  much  improved  and  took  Mr. 
Wightman's  place. 

"Can't  we  do  some  work  to-day?"  he  began  as  soon 
as  we  were  alone. 

**If  you  are  able,"  I  answered. 

"I  must  work,  drink  or  go  crazy.  I'm  pretty  near 
a  finished  product  of  the  city's  licensed  damnation. 
Strange,  isn't  it,  what  a  difference  there  is  between 
the  fruits  of  Christian  prayers  and  Christian  votes. 
Converted  men  come  from  the  first  and  drunken 
brutes  from  the  last — a  few  converts  and  many  sots, 
Joseph,  I've  got  to  have  pretty  strong  help,  if  I  suc- 
ceed. Don't  you  want  to  enter  my  office  and  study 
law?     I'll  make  it  pay  you  well." 

"I've  been  thinking  that  I  would,"  I  replied. 

"AH  right  then;  we'll  consider  it  settled,"  he  re- 
marked in  conclusion,  evidently  much  relieved. 

Decending  the  stairs,  half  an  hour  later,  the  Major 
said: 

"I  must  kiss  my  wife  good  morning.  Pretty  hard 
to  need  her  help  when  I  ought  to  be  comforting  and 
nursing  her.  She's  brave,  God  bless  her;"  and  tears 
stood  in  his  eyes  as  he  entered  the  sick  room. 

Strengthened  by  her  smile  and  words  of  cheer,  he 
joined  us  at  the  table,  a  few  moments  later,  where  a 
pleasant  meal  was  brightened    by    th»  winsome  Elsie. 


100  BIQH  JOE;  OR, 

The  Major  succeeded  in  resisting  the  craving  appe- 
tite, and  before  night  we  were  prepared  for  the  Ben 
Pitts'  hearing. 

Alice  was  delighted  with  my  plans,  and  I  read, 
with  do  small  pleasure,  her  interest. 

"And  you'll  make  your  home  with  us?"  she  asked 
confidently. 

"I  shall  as  soon  as  the  Major  can  spare  me,  unless 
you  turn  me  away,"  I  replied. 

"We  shall  not  turn  you  out  if  you  don't  get  too 
tall  for  the  doors.  Father  didn't  build  the  house,  you 
know,  for  giants;"  and  she  laughed  merrily  as  she 
looked  up. 

I  returned  to  the  Major's,  after  a  delightful  even- 
ing, and  found  him  nervously  walking  the  floor,  his 
wife  endeavoring  to  divert  him  by  her  cheery  words. 
On  reaching  his  room,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair, 
exclaiming: 

"O  Joseph!  it's  a  terrible  battle.  I  would  give  ten 
dollars  for  a  good  glass  of  hot  punch  or  whiskey 
straight.     It  doesn't  seem  possible  to  stand  itl" 

"But  you've  got  to;"  I  answered.  "We've  set  out 
to  clear  Ben  Pitts  and  conquer  your  appetite.  One 
glass  of  liquor  would  defeat  both  and  ruin  two  fami- 
lies." 

"That's  so,  but  I  can't  do  either  alone, "  he  said, 

"We'll  conquer  by  mutual  help,  and  perhaps  the 
hovel  and  the  lawyer's  home  will  each  become  a  par- 
adise,"  I  replied  hopefully. 

"If  they  should,  then  we  won't  need  to  pay  the 
priest  when  we  die,  for  both  will  have  traversed 
purgatory  here.     If  Hell  has  any  greater  torture  than 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  101 

rum  can  inflict,  'twill  be  worthy  the  name  of  'fire  and 
brimstone.'  I  dont  want  to  go  as  an  explorer,"  he 
added. 

I  can't  tell  you  how  he  suffered,  but,  with  constant 
care,  he  grew  stronger  and  more  hopeful. 

On  the  day  of  Ben  Pitts'  hearing,  a  crowd  filled  the 
court  room,  saloon  men  and  their  friends  being  pres- 
ent in  large  numbers.  Workmen  were  on  hand  with 
Pitts,  and  so  intense  was  the  excitement  that  a  word 
would  have  made  the  latter  pitch  the  pompous  Boss, 
and  his  gang  out  of  the  window.  The  Major  saw 
this  and  said : 

"I  shall  make  no  defense.  We'll  have  a  jury  trial 
Boon  and  won't  disclose  our  hand  now.  I  wish  you 
would  explain  to  his  friends. " 

I  complied,  and  all  agreed  that  the  Major  knew  best. 
Accordingly,  we  let  the  state  make  its  case,  but  such 
a  cross  examination  as  the  three  witnesses  got  would 
have  won  acquittal  before  any  unprejudiced  court. 

The  day  was  warm,  and  in  the  open  windows  sat  a 
number  of  men.  As  the  examination  closed,  and  the 
Court,  with  little  hesitation,  found  probable  cause  for 
committing  the  prisoner,  a  man  in  one  of  the  win- 
dows said  aloud: 

"Another  poor  divil  goin'  to  the  calaboose.  He's 
paid  his  share  towards  our  high  civilization,  and  now 
his  carcass  is  useless.      Drive  on  your  bone  wao-on!" 

"Mr.  Sheriff,  take  that  man  in  charge,"  exclaimed 
the  Judge;  but  just  then  a    stir  was  seen  at  the  do<v 
and  a  woman  hurried  breathlessly    toward  the  from. 

"Oh  my  God  I  that's  Mary  hunting  for  me;  poor,— 


IW  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

sad — girl!"  exclaimed    the    noisy    man,  standing  up. 
Then  he  shouted  like  a  madman: 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  just  been  turned  loose  from 
the  beautiful  home  which  you  have  fitted  up  so  ele- 
gantly with  bolts  and  bars,  for  all  poor  wretches 
when  they  have  deposited  their  hard  earned  money  in 
your  modern  banks  and  their  manhood  in  your  gut- 
ters.     That's  my  wife.  "— 

"O  Peter  I"  cried  the  woman,  reaching  out  her  arms 
beseechingly.  "  Come  home,  for  poor  Benny  is  sick  and 
I  can't  wash  and  iron.  We're  hungry  and  lonesome, 
Peter. " 

"No,  Mary.  Peter  Mackin  was  robbed  in  the  city's 
saloons,  and  then  put  in  the  calaboose  for  ten  days 
when  his  bairns  needed  him.  No  one  to  bail  him  out, 
Mary;  no  one  to  see  whether  the  poor  divil  was  a 
baste  or  a  man.  Sixteen  churches,  Mary,  and  one 
hundred  saloons,  combined  to  rob,  imprison  and 
murder  us.  I  drank  up  my  last  dollar  as  soon  as  I 
was  out  this  morning,  and  my  head  feels  so  quare,  so 
wild, "  and  he  pressed  his  temples  with  his  hands. 

"O,  Mary  I  I  can't  go  home.  Kiss  the  children,  good- 
by,  my  dearest,  my  brave,  patient,  sulTeriug  swate- 
heart.  Curse  this  city  for  me  as  long  as  you  live. 
Curse  its  voters,  its  officers,  its  churches.  Good-by, 
ye  red-handed  robbers  1"  and  before  the  sheriff,  who 
had  been  pushing  his  way  thither,  could  grasp  him, 
he  turned,  and  with  a  crazy  yell,  jumped  through  the 
window  toward  the  stone  pavement,  three  stories  be* 
low. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY,  lOS 


CHAPTER  XV. 


PICTURES    FROM    REAL    LIFE. 

The  poor,  tired  woman,  saw  the  fatal  leap  of  her 
husband,  and  with  a  shriek,  fell  unconscious  to  the 
floor. 

The  crowd  rushed  to  the  windows  or  down  the 
stairs,  as  soon  as  the  first  shudder  of  horror  had 
passed,  and  there,  crushed,  bleeding  and  dead,  his 
blood  spattered  over  the  broad  walk  and  on  the  sides 
of  the  city's  elegant  Hall,  lay  all  that  was  left  of 
Peter  Mackin.  Two  weeks  before,  he  had  started 
home  full  of  hope  and  bright  anticipations.  In  his 
pathway  he  found,  not  bandits,  who,  at  the  muzzle  of 
a  revolver,  compelled  him  to  surrender  his  hard- 
earned  wages,  but  a  beautiful  city  with  broad  streets, 
elegant  business  blocks,  richly  furnished  homes,  large 
school-buildings,  a  free  library,  costly  city  hall,  and 
stores,  warehouses,  mills  and  banks,  loaded  with 
wpalth.  It  was  peopled  with  intelligent  men  and 
women,  claiming  to  be  civilized,  but  who,  not  willina 
to  pay  the  expenses  of  such  a  city,  themselves,  had 
legalized  dens  of  vice,  traps  of  death,  baited  with  the 
blighting  serpent  of  the  still,  and  furnished  with 
doors  opening  wide  upon  the  walks  where  human  foot- 
steps must  tread.  In  this  city,  robbed  of  his  money 
and  crazed  by  drink,  his  bark  of  life  had  gone  to 
pieces. 

Kind  hands  bore  the  wife's  frail,  still  form  from  the 
court-room,  to  a  plain  home   across   the    street.     The 


104  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

pulse  beat  feebly,  and  the  sunken  cheeks  and  emaciated 
frame,  told  how  little  food  had  passed  the  thin,  white 
lips.  A  doctor  watched  beside  the  cot,  seeking  to 
rally  the  ebbing  tide,  while  tender  hands  smoothed 
out  the  tangled  Jocks.  The  hours  were  few,  the  bat- 
tle short,  and  Mary  Mackin's  tired,  hopeless,  broken 
heart  stood  still — another  victim. 

The  coroner's  work  was  quickly  done,  and  the 
jury's  verdict — suicide  by  his  oimi  hand — legally  re- 
corded; the  messenger  to  his  home,  returned,  saying 
two  orphaned  children,  nearly  starved,  were  found  in 
barren  rooms;  the  hearse,  with  a  few  mourners,  bore 
the  two  crushed  bodies  to  the  Potter's  Field;  one 
grave  received  the  coffins  side  by  side;  "Dust  to  dust, 
ashes  to  ashes"  was  said;  the  mocking  tomb  was 
closed ;  and  once  again  was  sealed  a  chapter  in  the 
bloody  war  with  Rum. 

I  sent  for  Alice  as  I  saw  the  wife  moved,  and  dur- 
ing the  time  before  the  double  burial,  she  was  a 
sympathizing  helper. 

"Joseph,"  she  said,  when  all  was  over,  "I  was 
asleep  a  month  ago.  Your  words,  that  Sabbath  by 
the  brook,  'they  have  not  been  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  sympathy  and  love  for  suffering  men, '  opened  a 
new  vision  to  my  eyes,  a  world  in  which  I  was  its 
most  selfish  creature. " 

"  You're  getting  ready  to  be  a  martyr,  a  reformer,  " 
I  said  with  a  smile. 

"Seriously,  do  you  think  so?"  she  queried. 

"Oh  no,  I  was  only  joking.  I  hope  no  lot  of  sor- 
row awaits  Alice  Wightman, "  I  answered,  looking 
with  admiration  into  her  sweet  eyes. 


TEE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  105 

Picking  up  a  paper,  the  smile  on  her  face  faded  as 
she  asked: 

"  Did  you  read  the  account  of  that  church  meet- 
ing?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "I  overlooked  it  in  the  rush 
of  other  matters.      Read  it. " 

She  complied,  and  this  is  what  The  Herald  said: 

"as  it  should  be. 
The  meeting  at  Christ's  Church  yesteiday,  made 
short  work  of  Politics  in  the  Pulpit.  Minister  Bliss, 
who  so  far  forgot  himself  the  Sabbath  before,  was 
heavily  sst  down  upon  by  the  trustees.  It's  'no  pol- 
itics or  no  pulpit,'  hereafter.  Deacon  Johns  de- 
serves the  thanks  of  the  church  for  his  square,  cour- 
ageous stand.  Now  let  the  pastor  stick  to  his  Bible, 
if  he  cares  for  his  bread  and  butter." 
The  News  said : 

"SOTJNDIXG    BRASS." 

"Pastor  Bliss  was  brought  before  a  politico-church 
sanhedrim,  yesterday.  After  Deacon  Johns  tapped 
the  meeting  to  order  with  his  goldheaded  cane,  he 
explained  the  'serious  matter'  they  were  called  upon 
to  consider.  'For  one,'  he  said,  'I  cannot  consent 
to  have  the  sacred  work  of  the  church  and  its  best 
interests  jeopardized  by  such  sermons  as  our  pastor 
preached  last  Sabbath.  The  gospel  is  strong  enough 
to  convert  and  save  all  men  who  are  predestined  to 
salvation.  What  it  can't  save,  politics  can't,  laws 
can't.  Men  have  a  right  to  become  cranks  on  the 
liquor  evils,  but  it's  out  of  place  in  the  pulpit,  and 
won't  be    allowed.'     Others    spoke    in   a  similar  vein, 


106  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

while  the  good  pastor,  sitting  calmly  in  the  rear,  lis- 
tened. Finally  the  chairman  asked:  'Have  you  any- 
thing to  say  Brother  Bliss?'  'Only  this,'  was  the 
quiet  response,  but  it  came  like  a  thunder-clap ;  *no 
man  nor  devil  can  muzzle  my  mouth.  My  commis- 
sion is  from  the  Almighty.' 

"The  trustees  were  evidently  not  ready  to  give  the 
pastor  his  walking  papers,  and  there  was  too  much 
concealed  fire  in  his  answer  to  make  a  longer  meeting 
desirable.  The  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbate 
adjourned,  much  rattled  by  the  vigor  of  the  conse- 
crated man's  courage.  We  wait  developments,  but  bet 
on  the  one  man  of  backbone. " 

High  Joe  returned  two  slips  to  his  pocket,  and,  aa 
the  others  moved  slightly,  the  enthusiastic  Pat  ex. 
claimed : 

"Be-jabers,  I'll  bet  on  him,  too.  It  ain't  wise  to 
fool  with  guns  loaded  with  sich  dynamite;  somethin's 
loikly  to  bust. " 

After  the  laugh  went  round  at  Pat's  remark.  High 
Joe  continued: 

"Sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals!"  I  ex. 
claimed  as  she  finished.  "They're  a  disgrace  to  Chris- 
tianity, a  set  of  whited-sepulchers. " 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  them,  Joseph, "  Alice  said, 
laying  down  the  paper.  "  They  are  blind,  as  I  was. 
Have  you  heard  that  Deacon  Johns'  son  was  drunk 
last  night,  poor  fellow?" 

"No,  but  I  am  not  surprised,"  I  answered.  "  When 
his  own  son  is  struck  by  the  destroyer's  heavy  hand, 
he  may  awaken.     I  trust  it  won't  be  too  late." 

The  days  passed  rapidly.     The  Major's  appetite  was 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  1U7 

a  consuming  fire.  From  a  heavy  frame,  he  wasted 
away,  till  the  leading  physician  in  the  city  told  him  he 
would  die,  unless  he  stopped  the  craving  by  a  moder- 
ate use  of  beer. 

"I'd  be  a  lost  man,"  exclaimed  he,  "were  ^  to  in- 
dulge in  one  glass.  How  can  you  doctors  close  your 
eves  to  the  power  of  appetite  in  men  like  me,  and  ad- 
vise our  taking  the  destroyer  as  medicine?  Is  your  pro- 
fession so  near  a  failure  that  the  only  remedy  you  can 
prescribe  for  fire  is  fire?  Doctor,  you  have  ruined 
others  by  such  adviee,  but  I  shall  resist  if  appetite 
don't  overcome  me." 

Work  crowded  in  and  we  were  very  busy.  T  en- 
joyed the  days  aod  especially  the  preparation  for  Beu 
Pitt's  trial.  More  than  all,  however,  I  enjoyed  the 
hours  of  converse  with  x\lice  Wightman.  With  the 
ireedom,  almost,  of  brother  and  sister,  we  visited, 
sailed,  and  drove.  My  plans  were  freely  discussed, 
while  she,  with  naive  confidence,  disclosed  her  high- 
est thoughts  and  aspirations. 

Without  a  word  of  bitterness,  the  courageous  pas- 
tor pushed  on  his  work.  Deacon  Johns  and  others 
remained  from  prayer-meeting  for  some  weeks,  but 
those  who  attended  declared  that  the  good  pastor  had 
never  s^^:-med  so  brave  and  gentle,  so  earnest  and 
hopeful.  The  sermons,  too,  had  a  higher,  grander 
ring,  as  though  inspired  by  a  new  power  and  purpose. 
Instead  of  seminary  theology  he  preached  every-day, 
Christ  theology;  instead  of  ancient  crusades  and  mar- 
tyrs, he  told  of  the  modern  crusades  and  martyrs — 
America's  needs  and  workers. 

"3e  doesn't  say  saloons,  or  license,  or  politics, "  re- 


108  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

marked  a  gentleman  one  Sunday  as  the  crowd  was 
pushing  out,'  "  but  I  know  he  means  it,  just  the  same. 
When  the  proper  time  comes  he  won't  slide  round, 
I'll  guarantee.  Men  with  number  twelve  boots  and 
number  six  hats  can't  dictate  his  thinking  or  speak. 
ing.  •• 

Colonel  Bray  overheard  the  remark  and  looked 
around  savagely  at  the  stranger,  but  as  the  door  was 
reached,  I  heard  no  more. 

Three  glorious  months  of  fragrant,  fruitful  summer 
passed.  Circuit  Court  convened,  and  early  in  the 
session  the  criminal  calender  was  called.  In  its  reg- 
ular  order,  the  Ben  Pittfe  case  was  reached,  and  the 
crowded  court-room  told  how  great  was  the  interest. 

"Mark  my  word, "  said  the  Major,  as  we  were 
waiting  for  court  to  open ;  "  public  sentiment  and 
sympathy  in  the  city  is  divided.  The  line  cuts  right 
through  the  snobs,  the  society  rich,  and  the  euchre- 
playing,  dancing  church-members,  leaving  most  oi 
them  or  the  side  of  Col.  Bray  and  his  dead  subaltern. 
The  workmen,  farmers,  and  men  and  women  of  strong 
purpose,  will  side  with  the  defendant. " 

"Won't  that  make  it  difficult  to  get  a  jury?"  I 
queried. 

"I  fear  it  will, "  he  answered.  "  My  onl  y  hope  is 
in  the  farmers  on  the  panel.  There  are  good  busi- 
ness  men,  too,  but  many  of  them  have  no  backbone. 
They  fear  to  sit  on  a  jury,  to  attend  caucuses  and 
converitions,  work  for  good  men  before  or  after  the 
nominations,  vote  their  conviction  for  or  agaiust  men 
or  measures,  or  remonstrate  against  bad  laws  or 
petition    for   new    ones,  lest    they    offend     some  one. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY,  109 

Many  a  man  will  trade  the  interests  of  his  city,  the 
character  of  his  own  or  his  neighbors'  boys,  the  Amer- 
ican love  of  justice  and  fair  play,  the  sacred  inter- 
ests of  church  and  school,  and  the  bodies  and  souls  of 
men,  all  for  the  profits  on  a  ton  of  coal,  a  suit  of 
clothes,  or  a  job  of  work.  I  don't  say  they  purposely 
plan  these  things,  but  they  grow,  little  by  little,  to 
shirk  every  serious,  public  duty  where  anyone  is 
liable  to  differ  from  them.  We  who  are  lawyers,  or 
who  have  been  in  politics,  know  how  true  this  is. 
America's  sovereignty  gets  sold  out  pretty  cheap, 
and  men  born  in  other  lands  become  our  masters. " 

"I  fear  you're  putting  that  pretty  strong, "  I  an- 
swered. 

"Strong,"  he  said  emphatically,  looking  at  me 
with  keen,  deep  eyes,  "can  you  tell  me  how  come  all 
of  our  aldermen,  nearly  all  of  our  policemen,  most  of 
our  city  officers,  half  of  that  jury  panel,  nearly  every 
ward  inspector  of  our  elections,  assessors,  highway 
commissioner  and  all  employees,  to  be  foreign  born? 
Joseph,  it's  a  serious  matter.  Watch  as  we  draw  the 
jury." 

Court  opened  and  our  case  was  called.  As  Ben 
Pitts,  with  sober  face,  took  his  place,  Col.  Bray's 
ponderous  form  came  in  with  the  district  attorney. 
Deacon  Johns,  stroking  his  silk  hat,  greeted  the  Col- 
onel as  he  passed,  and  all  classes  were  well  repre- 
sented. 

The  day  was  consumed  in  getting  a  jury.  One  after 
another  of  the  panel  was  examined,  till  every  busi- 
ness  man  was  excused,  because  he  had  "formed  an 
opinion  as  to  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  the  prisoner. " 


110  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  questioned  the  Major,  as  the 
last  one  stepped  aside.  "Very  few  had  any  opinion 
but  fear  or  selfish  interests.  All  have  evaded 
duty. " 

Numerous  talesmen  from  the  city  were  brought  in 
with  similar  results,  and  toward  evening  the  sherifl^ 
started  for  the  country. 

The  next  day,  a  jury  of  intelligent  farmers  was 
completed,  and  the  trial  began.  The  state  had  a  larger 
number  of  witnesses  than  before,  and  the  fresh  ones 
told  plausible  stories;  but  the  Major's  scathing  cross- 
examination  made  havoc  with  them.  His  bony  hand, 
as  he  shook  it,  seemed  to  have  a  ghost-like  power  of 
compelling  them  to  admit  the  truth. 

Ben  Pitts  was  there  with  his  wife  and  little  ones. 
Neither  child  could  walk  or  get  in  or  out  of  a  chair. 
When  the  state  rested  he  was  called,  and  as  he  put 
down  the  boy  to  take  the  stand,  the  little  fellow  cried 
out  in  pain. 

"Now  tell  the  jury  your  story,  Ben,"  said  the  Maj- 
or  as  the  witness  was  sworn;    "they    want   all  of  it.'' 

Just  then  the  child,  trying  to  move  himself,  cried 
out  again,  and  the  father  placed  his  handkerchief  to 
his  face  to  hide  the  falling  tears. 

"  I  haven't  much  of  a  story,  gentlemen,"  he  beo-an 
as  soon  as  he  could  control  his  voice.  "I  was  a  hard 
workin'  man  and  lived  in  a  good  house  with  my  wife 
and  two  little  children,  till  those  new  saloons  started 
neir  the  shops.  I  learned  to  drink  when  a  youno- 
man,  but  had  been  sober  and  industrious  for  ten 
years,  saved  five  hundred  dollars,  and  was  planning  to 
buy  a  home  of  my  own.       1  stepped  in  with  the  other 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  Ill 

boys  one  night  and  took  a  drink  as  Pat  Moran's  treat. 
It  aroused  the  old  appetite,  and  before  I  knew  it — it 
didn't  take  a  week — I  had  spent  and  gambled  all  of 
my  savings  at  his  den.  I  was  soon  a  sot,  and  we  had 
bo  move  to  a  miserable  hovel  and  sell  our  furniture 
to  live  through  the  winter.  I  owed  Pat  quite  a  bill 
for  whisky,  and  he  had  threatened  to  fix  me  if  I  didn't 
pay.  He  was  pretty  cross  that  evenin'  and  I  gave 
him  a  dollar  bill  my  wife  had  earned  that  day,  wash- 
in'.  He  cursed  and  swore  when  he  saw  how  small  it 
was,  but  just  then  one  of  the  new  fellows  called  us 
all  up  for  a  treat.  Then  we  sat  down  to  play  cards, 
and  hac.  "t  played  long  when  the  children  came  in.  I 
•was  mad  with  whisky,  mad  'cause  Pat  had  talked  so 
to  me,  and  mad  to  see  the  children  look  so  hungry 
and  ragged;  but  I  pulled  my  hat  down,  thinkin'  he'd 
send  'em  out  an'  I'd  follow.  Just  then  I  heard  them 
say:  <Is  our  pa  here?'  and  I  listened  to  see  what 
Moran  would    say,  but  I   didn't  expect  anythin'  half 

so   bad.      'No;    get   out   o'    here,  you  d n  rao-ged 

brats,'  he  shouted.  Then  the  baby  girl  said  so  sweet 
like  that  I  almost  jumped  up.  <  Ma  said  he  was 
here.'  " 

The  witness  broke  down  and  could  say  no  more  for 
some  minutes. 

"Then,  O    gentlemen!  Pat  Moran  rushed  out I 

can    see   that    sweet   face   yet and kicked  her 

with  his  heavy  boot so  hard  she  never  made  a 

Bound and  I  thought he  had  killed  her. " 

"We'll  take  a  five  minute  recess,"  exclaimed  the 
judge,  as  he  saw  the  many  handkerchiefs  in  use 
through  the  room,  and    slipped    out    using    his  own. 


U2  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XVL 


A  TELLING   SPEECH. 

When  court  called  and  the  witness  took  the  stand, 
a  solemn  stillness  pervaded  the  room.     He  continued: 

"I  jumped  up  so  wild  and  angry  that  I  don't  know 
what  I  did,  only  I  remember  seein'  little  Ben  swung 
over  Pat's  head,  and — heard — him — cry — as  the  brute 
— threw  him.  I  know  I  felt  awful  wicked  when  I  saw 
him  kick  my  baby  Katie  so,  and  I  think  you  would, 
too,  gentlemen,  I  don't  know  what  I  did  next  till  I 
remember  havin'  her  in  my  arms,  but  somethin'  said 
I  had  done  right.  That  is  my  story  gentlemen.  I 
am  sorry  that  I  killed  Pat.  Moran,  but  I  never  meant 
to  and  never  would,  if  he  hadn't  done  such  a  deed. 
Most  every  time  I  see  those  little  cripples,  I  curse 
myself  for  drinkin',  and  Pat.  Moran  for  sellin',  and 
this  city  for  licensiu'  him.  There's  ten  men,  since 
the  saloons  started  near  our  shops,  that's  gone  to 
the  bad,  one  way  or  'nother.  Tom  Moore  shot  his 
wife  and  run  off  'fore  the  police  got  him " 

"I  object  to  any  more  of  that,"  exclaimed  the 
district  attorney. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  immaterial  whether  ten  or 
forty  men  went  to  the  bad,"  remarked  the  court, 
harshly. 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  Major,  rising  and  eyeing 
the  judge  savagely.  Then  shaking  his  bony  finger 
at  the  court,  while  every  word  cut  with  sarcasm,  he 
added:      "Does  your  honor   wish  to  place  on  record  a 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  IIS 

statement — a  deliberate  holding  of  the  court — that  a 
ruin  or  murder  of  forty  men  by  the  same  powers  that 
made  a  brute  of  this  man,  is  of  no  consequence  now? 
That  when  one  of  ten  victims,  turns  and  rends  the 
legalized  destroyer,  and  is  tried  as  a  felon,  he  cannot 
show  how  he  got  such  a  brutal  heart?  Does  your- 
honor — wish  to  hold — that  we  can't  show — Pat.  Moran 
a  wholesale  betrayer?  I  insist,  sir,  that  the  witness 
finish  his  story.  It  may  not  flatter  his  city,  our 
boasted  civilization,  nor  the  well-fed,  happy-go-lucky 
citizens  who  assisted  in  starting  this  Hellward 
game ;  but  its  truth — bare,  cold  truth,  that  this  court 
is  after,  unless  your  honor  adopts  the  same  excuses 
that  the  voters  did.  I  admit  that  it  is  just  as  wise 
and  reasonable  to  close  the  eyes  now  as  then,  but 
also  just  as  wrong." 

No  one  could    help    seeing    that    the  court  winced 
lender  such  a  fire,  but  he  only  said : 

"The  witness  may  go  on,  but  be  short. " 

"Go  on,  Ben,"  said  the  Major,  sitting  back  in  a 
satisfied  way,  and  the  witness  proceeded: 

"Bill  King  was  a  splendid  fellow,  but  be  hadn't 
been  married  many  months  when  he  began  to  drink. 
He  drove  his  wife  out  in  the  cold,  and  she  and  her 
little  babe  died  from  the  exposure.  Then  Bill  hung 
himself  in  jail. 

"Hank  Jones,  in  a  drunken  craze,  jumped  off  the 
oridge  into  the  river  and  never  was  found. 

"That's  the  way  they    went,    gentlemen, — shootin', 
hangin',  drownin', — an'     more'n    a  dozen  others  have 
died  or  been  killed  by    them  or  their   ways.      I  might 
8 


114  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

o'  been  one  if  that  Moran  hadn't  done  such  a  deed, — 
an'  that's  only  the  work  o'  four  saloons. " 

"If  they're  so  bad,  why  don't  you  fellows  keep 
away?"  asked  the  court  contemptuously. 

"Judge,  if  I  had  it,  I'd  give  a  farm  if  some  one 
would  show  me  how.  I  don't  want  to  drink  but  I've 
got  the  appetite;  an'  when  a  man  has  that,  he's  a 
goner.  Mighty  few.  Judge,  that  quit.  They're  the 
fellows  that  pay  the  money  to  support  the  saloons. 
One  hundred  couldn't  live  long,  if  they  depended  on 
the  stingy  fellows  who  walk  in  an'  take  a  drink  an* 
then  go  out.  It's  the  fellows  what  treat  an'  stay  an' 
drink,  that  fattens  saloon-keepers  and  pay  big  licenses. 
Them's  the  facts,  Judge." 

"You  may  take  the  witness, "  said  the  Major. 

*'So  you  admit  that  you're  a  regular  bum?"  began 
the  District  Attorney. 

"Guess  I'm  'bout  through  the  city's  schools, — liable 
to  graduate  to  the  Potter's  Field  most  any  day,"  came 
the  curt  reply. 

"And  spent  much  money  in  Moran's  saloon?" 

"  Spent  five  hundred  dollars  and  all  I  earned  for  most 
a  year — five  hundred  more. " 

"  And  the  other  fellews  spent  all  they  had,  same  as 
you  did?" 

"No,  they  spent  some,  but  Moran  robbed  most  of 
It." 

"Robbed;  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  say.  All  saloon-keepers  or  some  of 
their  men  do.  You  needn't  open  your  eyes  so,  'cause  I 
know  and  Col.  Bray  knows,  too.  He  couldn't  run  The 
Palace  a  day  on  the  profits  from  what  he  sells.  " 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  115 

The  Colonel  swore  in  an  undertone,  and  the  prompt 
attorney  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  violent  objection. 

•'I  can't  save  you  froni  the  witness  if  you  insist  on 
asking  such  questions,"  remarked  the  court,  much 
amused,  while  the  prosecutor,  seating  himself  crest- 
fallen,  said: 

"That  is  all." 

Other  witnesses  followed,  corroborating  Ben,  and 
then  I  took  the  stand.  My  story  was  short,  but  I 
could  see  how  uneasy  the  Colonel  was  before  I  closed ;: 
in  fact  I  knew,  as  I  stood  in  the  witness  stand  to 
take  the  oath,  that  the  prosecution  was  much  sur- 
prised, and  the  audience  looked  for  something  un- 
usual. Among  the  sea  of  faces  that  crowded  the 
room,  I  caught  a  smile  from  Alice  Wightman's;  and  as 
I  finished,  she  waved    her    handkerchief  in  approval. 

The  testimony  closed,  and  after  an  opening  argu- 
ment by  the  state's  counsel,  Major  Wright  addressed 
the  jury.  'Twas  a  speech  long  to  be  remembered. 
For  an  hour  he  reviewed  the  evidence  and  closed  by 
saying: 

"The  murder,  gentlemen,  was  of  a  brutal  seller, 
by  a  besotted  drinker;  and  we  who  voted  for  license 
made  it  all  possible.  There's  death  in  the  cup, 
always  has  been  and  always  will  be;  death  to  con- 
science, to  justice,  to  innocent  wives  and  children, 
and  to  guilty  sellers  and  drinkers.  It  scorches  like 
a  sirocco,  wherever  its  poisonous  breath  touches. 
The  only  wonder  is,  gentlemen,  that  Ben  Pitts  had 
enough  love  left  to  avenge  his  child's  brutal  treat- 
ment. You  or  I,  or  any  man  with  a  heart,  would 
have  done  the  same.     He  was    either  justified  or  you 


116  HIGE  JOE;  OR, 

must  find    that  the    right    to    outrage    a  ditfakard's 
family  is  a  part  of  the  municipality's  mighty  endow- 
ment, when  it  removes    the    law's  strong  prohibition 
and    accepts    bribe    money    from   known    murderers. 
Will  you,  can  you,     say    Ben  Pitts  is  guilty?     Your 
verdict  may,  but  your  consciences   cannot.     You  are 
now  asked  to   turn    the    last    wheel    in  the  lavv's  in- 
famous mill.     Legislators    have    made  the  plans  and 
built  the   hopper;    Christian    voters   have   put    it  in 
place,  taken  the   high-license   toll  and  curned  on  the 
power;  a  grist  of  eight   bodies    and  soils  was  in  the 
hopper  this  time ;  one  is    dead,    two  ai  e  crippled  for 
life,   a  wife    is    husbandless,    and    two    children  are 
fatherless;  a    mother  is    mourning    in    disgrace  and 
poverty  over  her    bruised    babes;    and    the  last  one, 
besotted,  maddenened    by    drink,     and  outraged,  has 
killed  a  fellow  man.      He  now   stands   at  this  bar  for 
vindication  or   for    punishment.     One    more    turn  of 
the  mill,  as  it   has    been    grinding,     and  the  maw  of 
the  insatiable  crusher  will  be   ready  for  a  new  grist. 
God  Almighty  can't  undo    the    bloody  work,  and  you 
can  only  stop    the    last    wheel    before    it  drops  this 
broken  fragment  through  the  prison  door.      Will  you 

do  it? 

"You  have  heard  to-day  what  four  saloons  can  do 
and  have  done.  Those  who  were  in  the  municipal 
court-room  ten  days  ago,  and  saw  the  delirium  devils 
chase  Peter  Mackin  out  of  the  window  in  a  headlong 
leap  into  a  drunkard's  eternity,  or  followed  him  and 
his  heart-broken  wife  in  wooden  boxes  to  the  Potter's 
Field,  know  what  other  saloons  can  do.  'Tis  the 
old,  old  story,  gentlemen,  sad  and  bloody.      While  it 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  117 

goes  on  by  our  leave,  we  laugh  and  sing,  buy  and 
sell,  thank  God  that  we  live  in  'the  land  of  the  free 
and  the  home  of  the  brave",  and  then  close  our  eyes 
in  satisfaction  and  our  ears  with  pleasure,  at  the 
music  of  our  boasted  civilization.  Of  you,  O  men  of 
hearts,  I  ask  but  one  thing:  If,  with  all  his  guilt 
and  drunkenness,  Ben  Pitts  was  only  acting  as  the 
highest  impulse  of  humanity  dictates,  or  if  he  was 
besotted  by  Pat  Moran's  whiskey  and  crazed  by  his 
outrage,  when  he  stamped  the  brutish  heart  to  death, 
I  ask  you  to  set  him  free;  nay,  gentlemen,  I  demand 
it;  justice  demands  it.  When  the  last  sad  record  in 
this  blighting  conflict  is  penned,  when  the  great 
books  on  high  are  closed,  when  voter,  seller  and 
drinker  stand  at  that  higher  bar,  and  when  we  all 
await,  not  as  counsel  or  jury,  but  as  men  with  hearts, 
for  the  verdict  of  the  Judge  of  all  the  Earth,  then, 
gentlemen,  shall  the  scroll  of  God  unroll,  and,  in 
eternity's  revealing  light,  we'll  read  this  chapter, 
ending  with  your  verdict;  then  shall  the  finite  be 
measured  by  the  infinite,  the  human  by  the  divine; 
then  shall  justice  be  tempered  with  mercy,  and  the 
Prince  of  Life  say  to  trembling  hearts  with  dark,  sin- 
stained  records;  'Neither  do  I  condemn  thee;  go  in 
peace.'  Gentlemen,  mercy  pleads,  but  justice  de- 
mands that  you  say  to  Ben  Pitts,  'neither  do  we 
condemn  you ;  go  and  sin  no  more. ' " 

As  the  passionate  plea  swelled  upward,  T  felt  I 
could  read  the  verdict  in  the  spell-bound  eyes  of  the 
jury  and  the  suppressed  feeling  of  the  audience.  The 
state's  counsel  followed,  the  Judge's  charge  was 
given,  and  twelve  men  retired  to  sit  in  judgment. 


118  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

A  half  hour  passed,  when  a  loud  rapping  on  the 
jury's  door  bespoke  an  agreement.  With  solemn  step 
they  returned,  and  in  response  to  the  court's  ques- 
tion,  handed  their  verdict  of    "not  guilty." 

As  the  sheriff  adjourned  court,  friends  rushed  for- 
ward to  congratulate  both  the  Major  and  his  client. 
The  pompous  Colonel  disappeared,  followed  by  his 
dark-souled  cohort,  and  soon  only  a  score  or  two 
remained. 

As  the  "Boss"  left  the  court-room,  I  caught  the  re- 
mark: 

"D n  him,  I'll  fix  him  yet." 

I  knew  it  boded  no  good,  but  was  unable  to  tell 
to  whom  he  referred. 

The  Major  was  scarcely  able  to  start  home,  he  was 
so  weak  and  exhausted.  I  was  alarmed  as  I  helped 
him  down,  but  was  rejoiced  to  find  that  Alice,  with 
her  womanly  tact,   had    a  team  for   us    at  the  door. 

"Don't  leave  me  to-night,  Joseph,"  said  the  Major, 
as  we  whirled  away.  "I  am  almost  wild  for  drink. 
'Tis  fearful." 

I  assured  him  of  my  concern,  and  Alice  said  simply, 
as  she  bade  us  good  night: 

"You  care  for  the  attorney  and  I  will  for  the 
clients. " 

The  buoyant  Elsie  opened  the  door,  and  we  were 
greeted  by  the  wife  to  whose  cheeks  something  of  the 
old  color  was  returning.  Deep  in  her  eyes,  however, 
behind  the  smile  of  hope,  I  saw  a  haunting  fear,  a 
lurking  pain;  but  with  the  sacrifice  of  loyal  woman- 
hood, she  strove  to  put  it  all  aside. 

The  account  of  the  trial  in    "The  Herald,"  scored 


THE  LOaOER'S  STOBT.  113 

the    jury  as  "a  pack  of  perjured  poltroons    who  were 
either  bribed,   intimidated  or  caught  by  sentiment. 

••The  News"  said:  "The  value  of  the  jury  sys- 
tem was  never  better  illustrated  than  in  the  Ben 
Pitts  trial,  when  court,  counsel  and  officers  seemed 
biased  and  ready  to  condemn  the  accused.  We  be- 
lieve the  verdict  was  a  wise  and  just  conclusion 

Some  whispered,  before  the  next  Sabbath,  that 
Pastor  Bliss  would  use  the  incidents  of  the  trial  as 
an  excuse  for  a  red-hot  temperance  sermon.  Some 
said  he  ought,  and  others  said  he  wouldn't  dare. 
The  result  was  that  almost  as  deep  an  interest  wa3 
aroused  as  over  the  Pitts  trial. 

Under  Alice's  care,  the  cripples  soon  began  to 
laugh  and  hobble  gleefully  about,  and  the  father  re- 
turned to  his  work.  In  a  few  weeks,  through  the 
ma^ric  hand  of  steady  employment  and  temperate  hv- 
ingT  the  rags  gave  way  to  comforts,  and  soon  a  new 
home  was  found  for  the  laborer's  family. 

•TU  never  drink  again,"  was  Pitt's  promise  to  his 
wife;  and,  as  the  days  went  by,  he  seemed  to  have 
formed  his  purpose  so  deep  in    sorrow  that  it   would 

last. 

As  I  appeared  at  the  breakfast  table,  Saturday 
morning,  I  detected  a  sober  look  on  every  face. 

••What's  happened  to  make  you  all  so  solemn?  I 
ftsked,  not  daring  to  banter  them. 

Alice  answered  by  handing  me  a  moist  copy  of     The 
News."     Glancing  at  a  marked  article,  I  read: 
"a  triple  murder. 

"Dick  Claire  went  home  full  of  drink  last  night  but 
wanting    more.     He  found  his    daughters,  Maud   and 


120  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Mert,   busy    sewing,    and    demanded    some    of    their 
money.     They  refused,  and  after  swearing  and  threat- 
ening, he  went  off,  as  they    supposed,  to    bed.     Sud- 
denly, however,  he  opened  the  door  and  rushed  at  them 
with  a  hatchet.     Before   Maud    could  get    out    of  her 
chair,  he   struck  her  such  a  blow  as    to  crush  in    her 
skull  and  kill  her  on  the  spot.     Mert  tried  to  flee  but 
he  pursued,  striking  her   with  the  sharp  edge  in  the 
back  as  she  passed  through  the   door,  completely    sev- 
ering three  ribs  .from  the  backbone;    she  cannot  live. 
His  last  act  was  to  cut  his  own  throat  from  ear  to  ear. 
"So  ghastly  was   the  scene  that  not   one  of  a  half 
dozen  men  who  entered  before  the   coroner,  could   re- 
main  in   the   room.      'Crazy  drunk'  or  'snakes  in  his 
boots'    will     probably    be    the    verdict.      The    heart 
stands  still  a  moment,  in   horror,  and   then  we  pass 
on^ 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  121 


CHAPTER  XVII, 


A   CONGRESS    OP   NATIONS. 

As  I  finished  reading  the  horrible  butchery,  T  asked: 

"Who  were  Maud  and  Mert  Claire?  It  seems  to 
me  I've  heard  the  name?" 

"You  have,"  answered  Alice.  "On  your  first  Sab- 
bath at  church  here,  you  remember  asking  who  those 
two  sweet-faced  girls  in  the  choir  were?" 

•*I  remember  them  well.  Can  it  be  possible  that 
they  are  the  victims?" 

"Yes,  they've  now  added  their  lives  to  other  sacri- 
fices. Friends  urged  them  to  find  employment  else- 
where, but  they  loyally  stayed  with  their  father, 
earning  enough  in  a  large  factory  to  buy  the  bare  nec- 
essaries of  life.  He  grew  more  brutal,  and  lately 
pawned  Maud's  new  spring  suit.  Often  he  stole  a 
whole  week's  wages  and  they  had  to  suffer,  some- 
times even  receiving  blows  and  kicks.  It's  all  over 
now,  for  rum  has  finished  its  work." 

"He,  poor,  embruted  sot,  has  gone  to  meet  the  wife 
who  died  in  sorrow  years  ago,  because  of  his  drunk- 
enness," said  Mr.  Wightman. 

"No,  not  to  meet  her,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Wight- 
man.  "I  don't  believe  he  could  endure  life  in  any 
place  where  she  or  her  dear  murdered  girls  are. 
This  city  manufactures  drunkards  for  this  life  and  lost 
souls  for  the  next. " 

The  few  friends  of  a  once  successful  business  man 
made  the  preparations  for  the  burial,  while  the  busy 


122  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

world  moved  on,  thoughtless  of  its  part  In  the  bloody 
drama. 

"There's  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  saloon  men  and 
their  friends  this  afternoon,  I  understand,  '*  remarked 
the  Major  as  we  started  for  dinner.  "Suppose  you 
drop'  in  and  listen. " 

I  promised  to  do  so,  and,  at  three  o'clock,  was  in 
a  tough  looking  crowd.  The  "Boss"  was  elected 
chairman  and  opened  the  meeting  by  stating  that  its 
object  was  to  plan  for  the  evening  caucus.  He 
closed  by  saying: 

"We've  got  to  protect  our  business;  self-preserva- 
tion is  the  first  law  of  life.  We  must  be  saloon- 
keepers first  and  party  men  last.  In  union  there  is 
strength.  If  both  parties  nominate  men  who  are 
satisfactory  to  us,  we  must  help  each.  The  first 
thing  is  to  be  at  the  caucuses  early  and  elect 
the  right  men  to  the  county  convention.  I  want  to 
impress  upon  every  saloon  man  the  importance  of 
seeing  the  men  who  are  running  politics  or  looking 
for  office,  and  give  them  to  understand,  decidedly, 
that  they  can  count  on  our  help,  only  on  one  con- 
dition— they  must  nominate  our  friends;  that  we'll 
*kick'  the  moment  they  don't.  We  won't  have  any 
milk  and  water  sops;  they've  got  to  be  clean  cut." 

As  the  Colonel  sat  down,  he  was  roundly  cheered, 
and  a  portly  German  followed.    ' 

"Meester  shairman, "  he  began;  "I  vas  vor  ber-so-nel 
liberty  virst  und  vor  bo-liti-cal  liberty  last.  I  vas  a 
schloon-geeper  virst  und  a  re-boob-li-can  last.  I 
knows  nottings  mooch  about  bolitics  or  vie  I  vas  a 
rebooblican,  only  dat  I  uas,  so  long  ash  dey   brotect 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  123 

mine  pizness.  Ven  dey  doon't,  I  vas  a  dem-i-crat 
poortv  quick.  I  vas  a  temp'rance  man  but  I  doon't 
vant  it  in  bolitics ;  I  vants  pizness  dare,  und  I  vants 
men  elected  who  knows  vat  pizness  in  bolitics  is. 
Breachers  und  Zundy  school  men,  und  deekuns  vas 
all  right  ven  you  gets  der  tickei  nomoonated,  Ve 
va^t  to  see  to  dot  und  ven  ve  haf  doon  it,  dey  vill 
vote  so  quick  as  nothings,  off  ve  poot  der  right  name 
at  der  top.  Ve  vas  too  sharp  vor  sooch  vel- 
lows.  It  moost  mali:e  me  schmile  out  loud  ven  I  tinks 
how  ve  can  vool  dem.  Schentiemens,  I  vas  no  schpak- 
er,  so  I  vill  sot  me  down.  " 

"Begorra,"  began  a  burly  Irishman,  rising,  "I 
agree  with  the  Colonel  and  our  friend  Krout.  We 
can  have  our  own  way  and  nominate  our  own  friends 
if  we  will.  It  needs  care  and  common  sinse,  but 
we've  got  both.  I'll  trust  the  Colonel  to  manage 
Bo  slick  that  the  other  fellows  will  think  they've 
done  it." 

One  after  another  spoke,  declaring  for  business 
first  and  party  second.  At  last  a  little  Frenchman 
who  kept  a  low  dive,  got  the  floor,  and  in  a  fiery  way 
exclaimed: 

"Ze  great  United  States  of  Amerigo  iz  ze  plaze  to 
keep  ze  zaloons.  Ze  young  men  drinks  ze  fastest  an' 
spenz  ze  most  money  of  any  in  ze  world.  I  haf 
keep  zaloon  most  every  whare,  boot  zis  iz  ze  land  of 
ee  vree.  No  bolezeman  trouble  ze  zeller  and  he  can 
zell  to  ze  poy,  ze  trinker,  ze  childers,  on  ze  Zunday, 
un  on  ze  election  day.  Zen  he  can  haf  billiard  ta- 
blez,  ze  witchin  cards,  ze  faro,  ze  roulay,  ze  scarlet 
woman,  ze  anyzing   to    get    ze    money    of   ze  voolish 


124  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

peoplez.  An  ze  churches,  ze  priests,  ze  great  literati 
zmile  and  votes  to  give  ze  license  vor  ze  part  off  ze 
money.  Zheatlemenz  1  vas  broud  of  ze  vree  goontry. 
I  vaz  broud  of  ze  great  parties;  za  gif  us  all  ve 
ask.  I  loves  zecn  both  zo  mooch  zat  I  cannot  tellz 
vich  to  votz  vor.    I  tinks  I  vill  help  ze  two." 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting  resolutions  were 
adopted  pledging  each  to  vote  and  work  against  any 
man  who  did  not  promise  to  do  all  he  could  to  ad- 
vance their  interests;  and  after  a  warning  from  the 
chairman,  not  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  their  feet, 
they  dispersed. 

As  they  crowded  out,  I  detected  German,  Irish, 
French,  Italian,  Pole,  Russian,  Scandinavian,  and  al- 
most every  nationality,  represented  in  the  army  of  slow 
murderers.  Their  thick  necks,  bloated  faces,  coarse 
features — scarred,  bruised  and  lustful — all  told  the 
kind  of  men  we  were  "regulating." 

As  the  last  vicious  eye  glanced  at  me  and  disap- 
peared,  I  strolled  out,  saying  half  aloud: 

"And  these  are  the  men  to  whom  voters  are  selling 
a  privilege  that    makes  men  worse  than  the  heathen. " 

Just  then  a  familiar  hymn  flashed  into  my  mind,, 
with  two  words  changed,  and  I  hummed  slowly: 

•*  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  sand; 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 

Our  land  to  error's  chain." 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  125 

After  a  short  pause,  while  the  strange  transforma- 
tion  of  thought  startled  me,  1  murmured: 

"O    Consistency,    Consistency!   whence    hast    thou 
fled?  While  thou    art  gone,  I'll    propose    a  new  plan 
•for  evangelizing  the  world.     I'll  ask    the    license  de- 
votees   to    petition  for  a  change  in    the  law,  so  that, 
instead  of  all  the  money  going    into  the  city  treasury 
for  worldly  purposes,  it    shall    be    divided,   paying  a 
part  into    the     church  treasury  for  foreign   missions, 
and  while,  with  the  bloody  fees,    we  build  royal  roads 
at  home,  we  may  also  'cast  up  a  highway'  for  the  be- 
nighted heathen.     What  a  royal     scheme    that  would 
be!  Business  men    would    vote    for  it  because  of  the 
city  revenues,   while  church    members  would  support 
it    because    of  the    church     revenues.     Wouldn't    it 
catch  the    rich    pew    owners!    They    could    stop    the 
tax-gatherer  and  the  collection  box. " 

My  feelings  had  changed  with    the    growth  of  sar- 
casm, and  I  laughed  aloud  at  the  thought. 

As  chance  would  have  it,  the  first  man  1  met  was 
Deacon  Johns.  The  smile  was  sti'l  on  my  face  as  1 
caught  his  eye,  and  with  a  dignified  bow  as  he  stop- 
ped to  shake  hands,  he  said: 
"Joseph,  what  amuses  you  so?" 
I  related  my  scheme,  and  was  still  more  amused  by 
his  serious  looks 

"My  boy,   you  make  too  light  of    these  things, "  he 
answered,  trying  to  pass. 

"No,  Deacon,"  I  said,  stepping  in  his  way,   "I  want 

-an  answer.     Is  it  any  worse  to  put  the  license  money 

into  the  church  than  into  the  city  treasury?     If  it  is 

right  to  take  it,  isn't  it  right  to  put  it  where  it  will 


12G  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

do  the  most  good?  and  if  it  is  wrong  to  apply  it  to 
buy  bibles  for  the  heathen  and  teach  them  the  way  oi 
righteousness,  isn't  it  wrong  to  apply  it  to  our  hign- 
ways?  Deacon,  haven't  we  been  measuring  our  vot- 
ing by  a  political  creed  and  our  giving  by  a  church 
creed?  Suppose  we  should  square  tncm  both  by  the 
Almighty's  plummet, — His  great  "word  of  light;* 
don't  you  think  both  would  undergo  a  marked 
change?" 

"I  am  not  accustomed  to  such  catechising  and  you 
will  excuse  me,"  he  said;  but  Alice,  who  had  ap- 
proached unobserved,  blocked  the  way. 

"Are  you  used  to  catechising  yourself^  Deacon, 
on  this  great  question?"  I  insisted,  enjoying  his 
discomfiture. 

"You  are  becoming  too  fanatical  to  talk  reason- 
ably," he  answered  bowing  and  stepping  pastl 

As  we  sauntered  down  town,  I  related  all  that  had 
occurred,  and  found  a  most  interested  listener  in 
Alice. 

"You  are  a  strange  fellow,"  she  remarked,  laugh- 
ingly, as  I  finished.  "Your  inventive  genius  must 
date  back  to  the  Mayflower." 

At  an  early  hour,  crowds  fathered  at  the  several 
caucus  rooms.  The  saloon  forces  were  boisterous  and 
ready  for  "  pizness.  "  Here  and  there  was  a  business 
man,  but  in  the  rush,  when  the  doors  were  opened, 
few  got  in. 

At  last  the  farce  was  over,  the  delegates  were 
selected,  and  while  the  "respectable  men"  went 
home,  the  office  seekers    and    crowds    sought  the  sa- 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  127 

loons.  Drinks  flowed  freely  and  all  went  merry  in  the 
"modern  hell. " 

Foremost  among  the  treaters,  was  the  man  anxious 
to  be  sheriff  and  the  man  aspiring  to  the  legislature. 
Foremost  among  the  drinkers  were  the  men  whose 
votes  could  be  purchased  for  a  glass  of  beer.  Fore- 
most among  the  sellers  were  the  men  who  were  pur- 
chasing both  treaters  and  drinkers.  Conspicuous  for 
their  absence,  were  the  men  who  advocated  license 
in  order  to  "regulate"  saloons, — men  who  were  al- 
ways apologizing  for  their  own  conduct  and  the  dirty 
work  they  were  sanctioning. 

"O  Liberty,  thou  art  undone  and  fled  to  brutish 
hearts,  twice  brutalized!"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  jostled 
through  the  crowds  going  in  and  out  of  the  open 
doors. 

Suddenly  a  cry  of  "fire!  fire!"  was  heard,  the  bells 
sounded  their  alarm,  and  before  I  knew  it,  I  was  near 
the  burning  building  which  proved  to  be  "The  Pal- 
ace. "  The  coming  crowd  pushed  on  and,  though  the 
lire  was  pouring  through  the  roof,  we  were  driven 
closer. 

"Back,  stand  back!"  shouted  the  policemen;  as  the 
engines  began  to  play  upon  the  roaring  flame.  "Back; 
back  for  your  lives;  the  walls  will  fall  in  a  few  mo- 
ments!" 

A  panic  spread,  and  men,  women  and  children 
pushed  and  trampled  one  another  in  frightful  shape. 
Suddenly  the  roof  fell,  the  great  red  tongue  shot  up 
a  hundred  feet,  the  wall  trembled,  swayed,  and,  oh 
horrors!   it  was  falling  toward  us. 


128  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER   XVIIL 


FIRES    WITHOUT    AND    WITHIN. 

The  crowd  was  warned  just  in  time,  and,  had 
nothing  fallen  but  the  wall,  few  would  have  been 
hurt;  but  along  the  top  were  two  large  chimneys 
which,  as  they  fell,  reached  out  toward  the  fleeing 
forms.  There  was  no  time  for  thought.  A  crash,  a 
tremble  of  the  earth,  a  cry  of  pain,  and  I  knew  no 
more,  for  a  flying  brick  struck  me  to  the  ground. 

When  I  recovered,  someone  had  administered  bran- 
dy and  the  old  appetite  was  aroused.  I  was  soon 
removed  to  Mr.  Wightman's  and  learned  that  -the 
fire  was  burning  on,  fanned  by  a  rising  wind. 

Christ's  Church  was  some  blocks  away,  but  before 
any  one  could  get  to  the  high  belfry,  that,  too,  was 
on  fire,  and  soon  the  sacred  walls  were  wrapped  in 
flames. 

For  several  days  I  fought  the  thirst  for  drink, 
nerved  to  greater  resistance  by  the  tender  care  of 
my  watchers,  and  on  several  occasions,  almost  decided 
to  tell  them;  but  something  whispered,  "Not  yet; 
fight  it  out  alone." 

Feeling  much  improved  on  the  third  day,  I  started 
for  the  office.  Stopping  before  the  smouldering  ruins, 
I  murmured: 

"Thank  God,  there's  one  less  place  to  tempt  men. 
Oh,  that  a  fire  would  sweep  them  all  away!" 

After  surveying  matters  a  few  moments,  I  reached 
the  office    and    found  the    Major  at  work.      To  him  I 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  159 

► 
told    everything,  and    how,    even    then,  I  was    being 
tortured. 

"Can  it  be  possible!"  he  exclaimed,  "that  while 
you  have  been  helping  me,  you  have  carried  a  smould- 
ering volcano. " 

"Yes,"   I   answered,    "but   how  are  you?** 
•*I  am  improving,  but  when  I  try  to  pass  a  saloon, 
something  like  an    unseen    power    within    seems    to 
draw  me,"  was  his  answer;    "but  have  you  heard  how 
the  fire  originated?" 

Assuring  him  that  I  had  not,  he  continued: 

"Colonel  Bray  has  been  running  a  first  class  gamb- 
ling den  over  The  Palace,  ever  since  it  started.  The 
only  way  to  reach  it  was  by  the  inside  stairway;  but, 
though  not  very  winding,  I  am  told  that  many 
a  man  went  up  to  his  ruin.  On  that  evening,  sev- 
eral men  were  gambling,  when  one  fellow  who  had 
Jost  heavily,  became  so  enraged  that  he  assaulted 
another  and,  in  the  melee,  a  lamp  was  overturned 
and  the  fire  started.  As  a  result,  over  twenty  thous- 
and dollars  worth  of  property  was  destroyed,  five 
lives  lost,  several  persons  crippled,  and  the  old  ap- 
petite rekindled  in  you.  That's  the  way  it  pays  ev- 
erywhere. I  never  thought  much  of  it  until  lately. 
Strange  how  blind  and  heedless  we  are. " 

We  closed  the  day's  work  and  started  home.  Af- 
ter going  several  blocks,  the  Major  said: 

"If  you  don't  need  me  I'll  go  to  see  a  witness  in  a 
new  case. " 

"I'll  be  all  right,"  I  answered  confidently,  and 
passed  on  alone. 


130  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Before  I  had  gone  far,  however,  I  found  myself 
standing  before  a  saloon.  The  two  large  doors  were 
swung  wide  open,  the  screen  removed,  and  from  the 
damp  sidewalk  and  saturated  sawdust  in  the  gutter, 
the  reeking  odors  filled  the  air.  In  the  door  stood 
the  white-aproned  waiter,  with  his  room  ready  for  the 
evening's  work. 

"Come  in,  come  in,"  he  said  in  the  blandest  of 
tones  as  he  saw  my  indecision. 

Reason  uttered  no  protest,  in  fact,  had  little  time 
to.  I  know  not  how  or  why  I  entered,  only  that  I 
seemed  drawn  in  as  by  a  spell,  and  but  one  glass  was 
needed  to  drown  the  voice  of  conscience. 

How  much  I  drank,  I  know  not,  except  that  some- 
time later,  I  was  aroused  by  a  touch  on  my  arm,  and 
discovered  Ben  Pitts,  sober  and  astonished,  looking 
at  me.  My  breath  told  the  whole  story,  and  he  said, 
anxiously : 

"What  you  doing  here,  Mr.  Strong?  Won't  you 
go  home  with  me?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,  I'm  all  right  Ben, "  I  answered 
with  much  of  the  maudlin  in  voice  and  laugh.  Then 
rising,  I  added:  "Come  and  have  a  drink,  Ben; 
come  on. " 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Strong.  You  know  what  it  has  cost 
me.  If  I  get  started  once  more,  I'm  a  gonner. 
You  come  with  me;"  and  grasping  my  arm  he  urged 
me  toward  the  door;  but  the  man  of  "pizness" 
didn't  propose  to  have  his  customers  interfered  with, 
and  shouted  with  an  oath: 

"Let  him    alone,     Ben  Pitts,     or    I'll    break    your 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  131 

head"  ;  and    he  flourished  a  large  bottle  with  the  evi- 
dent  intention  of  throwing  it. 

The  workman  was  too  brawny  and  brave  a  fellow  to 
be  scared  by  the  milk-sop,  and  squaring  himself 
about,  shook  his  fist  at  the  coward,  exclaiming: 

"Throw  your  bottle,  you villain,    if    you  dare, 

and  I'll  wring   your    neckl     I'd    shoot    you    for    the 
price  of  a  yellow  dog. " 

The  'bluffer"  concluded  not  to  interfere,  so  he  con- 
tented himself  with  swearing,  while  my  determined 
friend  led  me  away. 

A  few  moments  later,  we  entered  Ben's  home    and 
found  the  little  cripples  playing  happily  on  clean  floors, 
and  dressed  in  tidy  clothes,   while  the  wife's  face  had 
grown  many  years  younger.     She  understood  my  con- 
dition  at  once  and,  in  spite  of  her   sympathy,  the  old 
hard  lines  again  marred  her  features.    As  she  brought 
me  a    cup  of    coffee    and  a  hearty  lunch,  I  could  not 
help  noting  her    set  teeth,  quick,  suppressed    breath- 
ing, and  a  fire  in  her  eyes  that  boded  evil  to  some  one. 
Though  my  brain  was  dull   and    my   tongue  thick, 
what  I  saw    sobered    me.      Could  the  women,    in  com- 
fortable homes  and  pleasant  surrounding,    feel    what 
that  woman  felt,  as  she    lived  over  the  wretched  past 
made   vivid    by  the  present,  they  would    cease  to    al- 
low their  hands  to  be    tied  by  ease,   social    standing, 
or  their  husband's  politics,  and  would  join  in  the  holy 
crusade  for  homes  and  humanity. 

After  considerable  urging  I  consented  to  try  one  of 
Mrs.  Pitt's  "new  beds,"  and  soon  forgot  everything 
in  a  troubled  sleep.  Early  in  the  evening  I  was 
aroused    by    Ben     with    a    message    that    the  Major 


132  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

wanted  to  see  me.  At  the  mention  of  his  name,  1 
realized  my  weakness  and  shame,  and  dreaded  to  meet 
him ;  but  the  warm  grasp  of  his  hand  and  his  "Joseph, 
I  want  you  to  go  home  with  me,"  told  his  friendship 
and  intesest.  I  went  with  him  and  soon  we  were  ia 
his  library. 

"It  won't  do,  Joseph,"  he  began;  "you  helped  me  up 
and  I  must  help  you.  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to 
tte  convention  to-morrow,  and  we'll  give  the  <  g?ng  ' 
particular  fits.  They've  captured  the  city,  but  I  pro 
pose  to  enlighten  the  fellows  from  the  country.  If  ^ 
can't  beat  the  rascals,  no  one  can." 

I  consented  to  help,  if  possible,  and  retired  wbile 
the  Major  sent  word  to  Mr.  Wightman's. 

That  night  was  one  of  struggle,  and  more  than 
once,  could  I  have  gotten  out,  I  would  have  rushed 
off  for  drink.  Toward  morning  I  was  aroused  by 
the  vigorous  ringing  of  fire-bells. 

"You  be  still  and  I'll  see  where  it  is, "  said  the 
Major,  looking  in. 

Returning  an  hour  later,  he  answered  my  question 
by  saying: 

"It  was  Crocker's  saloon.  They  say  som^  one  set 
the  fire  and  the  mayor  has  offered  five  hundred  dol- 
lars to  catch  the  culprit.  'Twas  done  with  an  evi- 
dent intent  that  it  should  not  be  put  out." 

"They  won't  catch  h^.m, "  I  remarked  with  a?6ur- 
ance,  believing  I  knew  the  fire-bug.  "Whoever  did 
it,  was  probably  paying  off  some-  old  score. " 

As  I  was  dressing  in  the  morning,  feeling  weak 
and  miserable,  the  Major  entered.  His  first  words, 
after  a  cheery  greeting,  were: 

"They've  arrested  Ben  Pitts,  and  he  has  sent  for 
me  to  defend  him.      Tell  me  all  you  know,  Joseph. " 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY  133 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


MEN    WHO    SELL    US    OUT. 

In  a  few  words,  I  told    the    Major  what  I  knew  of 
the  trouble  in  the  saloon,  and  he  left  me,  saying: 
"I  guess  they'll  slip  up  this  time. " 
We  were  delayed  by  work  in  court  till  ten  o^clock 
when  the  judge  discharged  the  prisoner,  and  we  started 
for  a  ten  mile  drive.     Rapidly  we  traversed   the  fer- 
tile hills  and  valleys    waving   with    abundant  crops 
till  we  came  in  sight  of  the  village. 

"I'm  afraid  the  'ring'  will  be  ahead  of  us,"  said 
the  Major,  "but  I  never  felt  more  like  war  than 
to-day.  Our  first  work  will  be  to  'feel'  of  the  farm- 
ers.    I  want  you  to  do  your  best  and  report  soon. " 

"I  will,"  I  answered,  "but  knowing  so  few  I  shall 
have  to  work  somewhat  in  the  dark.  " 

"That's  so,"  remarked  the  Major,  "but  we  must 
fight  for  the  people." 

As  w.^  drove  up  to  the  hotel,  Deacon  Johns  was  the 
first  to  greet  us. 

-Glad  to  see  you,  Major,"  he  began.  "Was  afraid 
you  would  be  detained  in  court.  Got  any  plans  for 
the  day?" 

Before  he  could  reply,  several  plain  looking  men  ap- 
proached, and  the  foremost,  a  Mr.  Blanchard,  said: 

"Major,  we're  glad   you're   here.     The    temperance 

men  seem  to  be  in  the  minority  and  want  your  help. " 

"All  right,    gentlemen,"  was    the    cheery    answer, 

"but  I'll  have  to  wait  till  I  get  the   lay  of  the    land. 


134  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Will  meet  you  at  twelve  o'clock  sharp, "  and  he  hur- 
ried away. 

Major  Wright  was  no  novice  in  such  work,  and  he 
proceeded  at  once  to  interview  the  prominent  politi- 
cians.     As  he  got  several  together,  he  asked: 

"Now  boys,  what's  your   'slate'?" 

"Brackin  want's  to  go  to  the  legislature,  Kreits 
would  like  to  be  sheriff.  Young  is  a  capital  fellow  for 
register  of  deeds,  G-reen  thinks  he  could  take  care 
of  the  money,  and  Ryan  would  make  a  fair  clerk ; 
that  young  Olson  is  being  pushed  by  his  ^'riends  for 
clerk  of  the  court,  and  I  would  like  to  see  you  go 
to  Congress,"  explained  Bill  Camp,  who  was  Col. 
Bray's  first  lieutenant. 

"I  see,"  said  the  Major  with  a  whistle;  "you  be- 
lieve in  variety. " 

•'That's  the  way  to  win,"  replied  Camp.  "Practical 
politics  requires  first-class,  horse  sense.  Sentiment 
is  at  a  discount  in  a  political  convention,  and  the 
moral  law  not  a  very  drawing  card.  We  want  votes 
— good  votes,  bad  votes;  Irish  support,  German  help; 
ignorance  and  intelligence;  temperance  men  and  sa- 
lookeepers ;  and  we're  going  to  get  them. " 

"Do  you  expect  temperance  men  to  vote  foF 
Brackin — a  fellow  who  made  his  money  by  liquor 
selling  and  gambling?"  asked  the  Major. 

"Oh,  yes;  we  have  that  all  fixed.  Deacon  Johns 
Bays  Brackin  isn't  his  choice,  but  he  believes  in 
standing  by  the  party  if  it  don't  just  suit  him.  Col. 
Bray  says  that  nine-tenths  of  the  church  members 
and  ministers  in  the    city    feel  the  same  way      The 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  135 

fact  is,  Major,  we  never  had  matters  figured  down 
nearer'to  a  certainty.  That's  a  strong  ticket." 
"How  do  Blanchard  and  his  crowd  like  it?"  he  asked. 
"They  kick  like  steers,  and  say  they  won't  support 
a  man  on  it  except  you,  and  they  don't  believe  you'll 
run;  but  we  don't  fear  them,  as  only  a  few  are  so 
cranky,"  replied  Camp. 

"Only  a  few  temperance  men,   you  mean?"  queried 
the  Major  with  a  sneer. 

-Yes,  only  a  few  temperance  men, "  admitted  Camp. 
••But'  the  Irish,  the  G-ermans,  the  Scandinavians, 
the  whiskey-men,  and  all  sensible,  practical  follows 
are  just  as  cranky,  aren't  they?  They  kick  harder 
than  Blanchard  and  his  crowd,  don't  they,  if  they're 
not  given  what  they  want?"  persisted  the  Major. 

"Oh  yes,  but  of  course  we  expect  that.  That's 
why  we've  made  that  'slate'.  We've  got  to  humor 
such  decided  fellows,  especially  when  the  crowd  back 
of  them  are  equally  firm,"  said  the  oily  man. 

The  Major  sat  back  for  a  few  moments;  then  rising, 
said:      "I'll  see  you  again,"  and  hurried  away. 

As  I  met  him  he  explained  matters,  closing  with 
an  inquiry  as  to  the  farmers. 

"Farmers?"  I  queried;  "they're  a  minus  quantity. 
Haven't  seen  a  genuine  specimen  here.  There's 
Briggs,  the  money  loaner,  who  has  half  a  dozen  farms 
he  has  taken  on  mortgages.  Alderman  Brown,  who 
runs  "The  Broncho,"  has  several  for  which  he  traded 
drink.  Link,  the  cut-throat  collector,  is  another  of 
the  same  class;  while,  of  course.  Col.  Bray  has  a 
score  of  his  victims'  homes.  I  don't  find  any  others 
except  Blanchard  and  his  friends. " 


136  HIGH  JOE;  OR. 

The  Major  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and 
looked  puzzled;  then,  with  an  amused  smile,  ex- 
claimed : 

"By  Jocks,  Joseph,  I  guess  this  is  a  convention  of 
the  classes  without  the  masses !  Every  fellow  has  an 
ax  to  grind.     What  shall  we  do?" 

"I  don't  see  as  we  can  do  much  but  'kick',"  I 
answered. 

"That's  about  it  I  guess.  Come  on  and  we  will^" 
he  said,    starting. 

A  few  moments  later  we  were  in  a  room  with  the 
saloon  opposers.     The  Major  began  by  saying: 

"Well,  brother  Blanchard,  there  is  only  ov.q  thing 
that  I  see  for  you  to  do;  make  your  demands,  and  if 
you  don't  get  them,  kick,  and  kick  high. " 

"That's  about  our  opinion,"  said  the  doughty 
farmer. 

"Will  Deacon  Johns,  Rev.  Squeers,  Elder  Meers  or 
our  good  steward,  Bone,  stand  with  you?"  asked  the 
Major. 

"Couldn't  get  them  to  stand  for  anything.  Deacon 
Johns  said  he  didn't  believe  in  being  fanatical,  and 
Rev.  Squeers  said  he  couldn't  endure  political  bigotry 
any  more  than  religious  bigotry;  that  cranks  were 
his  special  abhorrence  and  made  him  tired.  Mr 
Bone  cut  the  matter  short  by  saying  he  didn't  be- 
lieve in  taking  temperance  into  politics;  and  Elder 
Meers  wasn't  ready  to  'throw  his  vote  away',  or  'turn 
the  country  over  to  its  enemies',  "  explained  Blanchard 

"O  Religion,  Religion;  how  thy  professors  belie  the 
manlv,  the  martyr  Christ?"  exclaimed  the  Major. 
Then  rising,   he  continued: 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  lan 

''Gentlemen,  there's  only  one  thing  to  do — make 
our  demands  and  then  fight  vigorously.  Now  what  do 
you  want?" 

"Only  two  things,"  answered  Blanchard, —  "clean 
men  for  ofiQce,  and  suppression  of  the  saloons. " 

"Good  enough,"  was  the  reply.  "Now  who  will 
you  name.  ?" 

A  full  ticket  was  agreed  upon  and  a  vigorous  reso- 
lution drawn,  embodying  the  views  of  those  present; 
then  all  adjourned  for  dinner.  The  Major  met  the 
Camp  men  and  told  them  what  was  wanted,  adding 
decidedly: 

"I  won't  accept  a  place  on  the  ticket  if  you  nomi- 
nate your  full  'slate'  or  if  you  refuse  to  pass  an  anti- 
saloon  resolution.  Our  fellows  will  kick  as  hard 
as  the  others  if  you  refuse  our  demands.  Nominate 
good  men  and  we'll  be  with  you." 

A  sec.'^et  meeting  was  held  before  convention  time, 
and  the  Colonel  and  his  crowd  canvassed  the  situ- 
ation. 

"We've  got  to  nominate  our  slate  and  sit  down 
hard  on  that  cranky  crowd,"  said  the  "Boss."  "I 
only  consented  to  support  Wright  to  appease  them. 
If  they  don't  come  to  time  we'll  put  up  another 
man. " 

"Let's  send  for  Deacon  Johns,"  said  Camp.  "He's 
reasonable. " 

"Good  idea,"  remarked  the  Colonel,  and  soon  that 
individual  made  his  appearance. 

"Now  Deacon,"  began  the  oily-lieutenant,  as  the 
former,  with  his  blandest  smile,  took  a  seat,  "we 
want  your  help.      A    few    of    the    temperance  cranks 


138  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

propose  to  go  back  on  the  whole  ticket  if  we  don't 
nominate  their  men.  To  make  matters  worse,  the 
Major  seems  ready  to  support  them  in  their  rebellion. 
Can  you  tell  us  how  to  pound  a  little  sense  into  their 
thick  skulls?  You  are  the  only  man  we  could  think  of, 
whom  we  felt  willing   to   trust.     What  do  you  say?" 

With  another  smile  at  the  compliments,  the  man 
who   "abhorred  cranks, "  began  : 

"You've  asked  a  difficult  question,  gentlemen,  for 
bigoted  men  are  hard  to  deal  with.  They  never 
mingle  any  policy  with  the  few  ideas  that  creep  into 
their  small  heads,  but  imagine  they  can  reform  the 
world  in  a  day  or  by  a  particular  method,  and  are 
deaf  and  blind  to  all  practical  measures.  However, 
we  must  do  our  best  to  appease  them.  If  they  ob- 
ject to  Brackin,  suppose  you  name  a  new  man;  then 
draw  a  resolution  that  you  can  support  and  I'll  have 
it  presented." 

"Good  enough,  good  enough!"  exclaimed  Camp. 
"W^'ll  pass  any  resolution  you  will  draw." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Deacon  read  the  following-. 

"Resolved,  That  this  convention  sympathizes  with 
all  efforts  to  secure  temperance  and  sobriety,  Dut 
proposes  to  respect  individual    and  property  rights," 

"Just  the  thing,"  said  Camp,  "I  knew  you'd  Help 
us  out.  We  have  agreed  on  Cummings  as  the  new 
man.  The  Colonel  says  he's  all  right;  do  you  ap- 
prove the  change?" 

"I  think  Blanchard's   followers    will  support  him, 
said  the  Deacon;    "at  least    I  will,  for  he's  a  membei' 
of  our  church.     I  never  talked    with  him  on  the  sub- 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  139 

ject,  but  as  he  has  been    very    quiet,  I  judge  he's  no 
crank. " 

A  half-hour  later  the  convention  was  called  to  order 
and  Deacon  Johns  elected  chairman.  Everything 
was  "cut  and  dried"  so  that  no  hitches  occurred  till 
the  nominations  began.  To  the  surprise  of  ti  o 
Blanchard  men,  Brackin's  name  was  not  mentioned, 
but  Cummings  received  almost  solid  support  on  the 
informal  ballot. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Elder  Meers,  before  the  form- 
al ballot,  "I  have  a  resolution  to  offer";  and  he  read 
the  one  already  agreed  upon. 

Suddenly  half  a  dozen  who  were  not  "on  the  inside  " 
sprang  to  their  feet  with  a  motion  to  table  the  reso- 
lution.    Camp  came  to  the  rescue  by  saying: 

"I  think,  gentlemen,  in  deference  to  those  who  are 
laboring  in  the  temperance  cause,  we  ought  to  pass 
this  resolution,  and  I  trust  we  will  yield  some  of  our 
own  preferences.  ** 

"I  want,  to  second  the  words  of  Mr.  Camp, "  said  the 
chairman,  rising.  "I  feel  that  those  of  us  who  are 
temperance  men  have  a  right  to  this  slight  consider- 
ation. " 

The  Blanchard  men  were  nonplused.  What  did 
this  new  move  mean?  Before  they  could  decide,  the 
vote  was  taken  and  almost  unanimously  carried. 
Then  a  motion  was  quickly  adopted  that  all  further 
resolutions  be  referred  to  the  committee  on  resolu- 
tions, without  reading.  The  friends  of  politica. 
supremacy  and  personal  liberty  breathed  freer,  while 
the  men  of  honest  purpose  were  startled  at  tho 
"gag.- 


140  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

By  this  time  the  fearless  Major  was  on  his  feet. 
As  he  looked  around,  no  one  could  mistake  the  flash 
of  his  eye  and  heightened  color.  With  a  shake  of 
that  "significant  finger"  at  the  presiding  officer  he 
begL:  • 

"Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen  of  the  convention. 
The  most  damnable  trade  on  earth  is  a  bargain  be- 
tween Christian  Judases  and  Hell's  minions.  Such,  I 
believe,  is  that  resolution,  and  such  are  the  men  who 
concocted  the  scheme  of  passing  it.  Under  the  sanc- 
timonious guise  of  temperance,  it  carries  a  knife 
ready  to  stab  to  death  the  cause  of  sobriety  and 
righteousness." 

Shouts  of  "Mr.  Chairman,  Mr.  Chairman;"  "sit 
down  there,  you  fool;"  and  "shut  up,  you  cold  water 
blatherskite, "  drowned  all  further  words,  while  the 
chairman  pounded  vigorously  for  order. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  141 


CHAPTER  XX 


WE  PART  COMPANY  TO-DAY. 

The  man  who  had  stirred  up  such  a  tempest,  stood 
erect  and  calm,  while  the  chairman  beat  down  the  up- 
roar with  his  gavel.  The  glance  of  the  Major's  eye, 
the  slight  lines  of  scorn  upon  his  face,  and  his  well, 
known  reputation  for  undaunted  courage,  won  the 
day;  and  all  saw  that  "the  quickest  way  was  to  give 
him  his  say.**  As  the  confusion  ceased,  he  con- 
tinued : 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  the  floor  and  propose  to  keep 
It,  no  matter  how  loud  Rum  howls.  I  admit  that 
he  expects  to  rule  the  roost,  if  given  any  place,  but 
while  I  am  present  I  propose  to  have  my  say.  What's 
the  matter  here  to-day?  Why  is  such  a  senseless 
resolution  passed?  Why  is  there  an  uproar  when  I 
attack  that  resolution,  and  why  was  the  gag  adopted? 

"There  is  only  one  answer — one  reason  that  can  be 
given — an  unholy  fellowship  of  light  and  darkness. 
There  sits  as  your  chairman,  a  deacon  of  his  church, 
and  here  sits  the  boss  saloon-keeper  of  his  city.  The 
chairman  prays  on  Sunday  for  the  redemption  of 
men,  while  the  saloon-keepe'*  works  seven  days  to 
rob,  ruin  and  damn  them.  The  latter  does  more  harm 
in  one  day  than  can  be  counteracted  by  the  prayers 
of  a  regiment  of  Christians.  There  sits  Rev.  Squeers, 
a  quiet,  orderly  minister,  and  here  sits  a  keeper  of  a 
blacker  hell  than  Squeers  ever  dreamed  of,  with  all 
of  his    fire    and    brim  scone    thrown     in.      Preachers, 


142  HIGH  J  OH;  OR, 

deacons,  saloon-men  and  dive-keepers  join  hands  for 
a  common  purpose.  Behold,  how  good  and  how 
pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity! 
^Brethren' !  Think  of  it.  Is  it  possible  that  men,  so  far 
apart  in  the  declared  purpose  of  their  lives,  can  be 
political  brethren?  Can  the  children  of  light  have 
any  fellowship  with  the  children  of  darkness?  Can 
theyl  Yes,  it  is  possible;  and  Hell  laughs  andHeav. 
en  weeps  over  that  possibility.  Such  fellowship  can 
only  exist  when  those  who  have  vowed  to  follow  the 
banner  of  the  cross,  consent  to  lower  it  and  run  up 
a  flacr  of  truce.  Gentlemen,  vou  who  have  voted  for 
that  resolution  to-day,  may  be  able  to  quiet  con- 
science; but  a  man  like  me,  with  a  burning  appetite 
for  the  liquid  fire  whose  agents  seek  to  drown  my 
voice  and  control  this  convention,  cannot  and  will 
not  be  silenced. 

"If  you  ministers,  deacons,  church-members  and 
patriots  will  join  with  us,  we'll  nominate  men  loyal 
to  the  truth  and  principle  first,  and  party  second.  If 
not,  you  cannot  have  our  support.  TVe  cannot  be 
bought,  neither  will  we  remain  in  a  party  which  con. 
tains  an  element  that  will,  when  opportunity  offers, 
sell  us  out.  Saloon-men  and  dive-keepers  want  noth- 
ing that  we  want,  and  v:e  will  have  nothing  that  they 
leant.  Mr.  Chairman,  Christian  voters,  can  we  not 
induce  you  to  stand  firm  with  us,  even  though  we 
may  not  elect  our  men?  I  beseech  you,  be  true  to 
principle  and  suffering  humanity.  Be  patriots  rather 
than  politicians;  be  Christians  rather  than  par- 
tisans. " 

As  the  Major  ceased,  a  dozeu   were    on    their  feet. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  143 

yhouting  for  recognition.  Mr.  Camp,  however,  "  got 
tbe  floor"  and,  with  oily  words  sought  to  quell  the 
rising  storm,  being  cheered,  as  he  progressed,  by  all 
except  the  Major's  company  of  'fanatics'.  Surely  but 
with  anxious  faces,  the  latter  saw  that  the  love  of 
party  and  the  soft  words  of  a  dishonest,  impure  dem- 
agogue,    would    win  the  day.      He  closed  by  saying: 

"If  Major  Wright  and  his  over-zealous  friends  pre- 
fer to  throw  their  votes  away,  we  will  have  to  let 
them;  but  republicanism  can  never  succeed  with 
such   fanaticism. " 

"Neither  will  true  republicanism  or  true  democ- 
racy ever  win  with  the  help  of  bad  men!"  exclaimed 
the  Major,  as  a  parting  shot.  "They'll  always  sell 
out  when  the  time  comes.     We  will  not  trust  them. " 

At  the  close  of  his  remarks,  Camp  moved  that  all 
further  discussion  cease,  and  that  they  proceed  to 
ballot  for  nominations.  The  Major  moved  as  a  sub- 
stitute, that  they  reconsider  the  vote  by  which  the 
resolution  was  adopted.  The  substitute  was  quickly 
voted  down  and  Camp's  motion  prevailed. 

One  after  another  of  the  "slate"  was  presented, 
and  promptly  the  Major  or  his  friends,  named  some 
good  man  for  the  office.  Five  Christian  men,  led  by 
the  non- professing  Major,  supported  the  "good  men," 
while  twenty-five  church  members,  seven  non-pro- 
fessors, six  saloon-men,  and  ten  sympathizers  oi 
henchmen,  supported  the  "ring. "  At  last  all 
of  the  "slate"  were  nominated,  while  the  stalwart 
half  dozon  had  named  men  of  ability  and    conviction. 

When  the  last   vote  was    taken,  Camp    moved  that 


lu  HIGH  JOE;  on. 

the  ticket  be   the   unanimous    choice    of    the  conven* 
tion,  and  Rev.  Squeers  seconded  it. 

The  Major,  however,  spoiled  it  all  by  saying: 
"I  congratulate  you  twenty-five  church  members 
who  have  been  led  so  willingly  by  the  nose.  When 
your  whisky  captors  let  go,  perhaps  you  will  be 
able  to  smell  the  brimstone  or  hear  the  devil's  clank, 
mg  hoofs  ahead.  You  may  consider  the  men  we  have 
named,  as  our  ticket.  We  give  you  due  notice  that 
there'll  be  music  and  another  party  in  the  field,  but 
it  will  have  no  use  or  place  for  bums  or  thugs,  and 
expects  no  help  from  men  who  compromise  with  evil. 
They  make  good  breastwor>s  for  the  devil's  hosts, 
but  to  redeem  the  world  requires  stalwarts  of  the 
vertebra  order.  Gentlemen,  we  part  company  to-day, 
and  never  shall  meet  as  ioyal  co-workers  till  you 
rend  and  trample  the  white  flag  and,  raise  aloft  the 
oanner  of  man's  redemption.  Our  hearts  are  sad 
with  the  parting,  but  duty  bids  us  stand  firm. 
Adieu.  •• 

Quietly  and  sadly,  the  little  company  arose  and 
walked  out,  while  the  surprised  onlookers  were  awed 
into  silence  by  the  moral  heroism  that  led  the  daunt- 
less six. 

When  they  were  gone  the  very  air  seemed  oppres- 
sive, and  the  convention  adjourned.  Those  who  had 
manipulated  its  proceedings  sought  refreshments  in 
the  various  bar-rooms,  where  several  of  the  nominees 
were  already  setting  up  the  drinks  for  the  "boys;" 
while  the  men  who  had  sold  their  free,  Christian 
birthright  for  less  than  a  mess  of  pottage,  silently 
drove  away,  disatisfied  and  uncomfortable. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  145 

The  dauntless  six  held  a  short  consultation,  and 
then,  with  loyalty  to  principle  as  their  watchword,  and 
a  promise  to  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  a  political 
campaign,  separated. 

As  we  drove  homeward,  I  was  gloomy  and  nervous. 
The  appetite  for  drink  tugged  at  every  fiber  of  my 
body,  impelling  the  weakened  muscle  and  will  tc 
yield;  but  my  earnest  companion  drove  me  to  my 
foster  home,  saying: 

"That  bundle  of  sunshine  will  do  you  good.  She's 
a  prize  that  ought  to  nerve  any  man  to  resist  evil, 
Joseph. " 

**I  know  it,"  I  answered  as  we  came  in  sight  of 
the  towering  elms  before  the  house,  "but  no  man  with 
my  appetite  ought  to  be  trusted   with  such  a  prize." 

Before  more  could  be  said,  we  caught  sight  of  the 
queenly  girl  among  the  flowers  on  the  vine-embow- 
ered porch,  and  as  she  recognized  us,  she  hastened 
down  the  walk  with  a  greeting  worthy  a  king. 

"Miss  Wightman, "  said  the  Major,  "Joseph  is  a 
little  low  spirited  to-night  because  he  didn't  get  any 
office.  I  will  turn  him  over  to  you.  Make  him  diag- 
nose his  disease,  and  then  prescribe  a  remedy.  Good 
night. " 

**What  a  fine  fellow  he  is  when  he  can  let  drink 
alone,"  said  Alice,  following  him  wiih  an  admiring 
gaze.     Then  turning  to  me  she  said: 

"  Come  and  rest  yourself  in  the  hammock ;  when  you 
feel  better  I'll  get    a  lunch. " 

As  I  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  yielding  cords, 
there  stole  over  me  &r>   \musual  sense  of  repose,  and 
10 


146  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 

confidence  in  the  light  hearted  girl  at  my  side.  Plac- 
ing her  hand  on  the  hammock  she  pushed  it  gently, 
while  inquiring  as  to  all  that  had  occurred  during  the 
day. 

Soothed  by  the  easy  swing  and  charming  company, 
I  went  over  the  day's  doings,  and  unconsciously  dis- 
closed my  own  sentiments.  The  harmony  of  feeling 
and  mutual  confidence  increased,  till  I  was  suddenly 
seized  with  a  desire  to  tell  her  my  own  condition.  As 
though  divining  my  thoughts,  she  said  curiously: 

"Now  tell  me  about  yourself,  Joseph;  what  troub- 
les you?" 

"I  have  a  wild  appetite  that  is  clamoring  for  drink, 
Alice, "  I  answered. 

"Oh,  Joseph  Strong!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  cry  oi 
pain.      "  What    do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean,"  I  answered,  "that  I  am  only  a  giant  in 
frame.  A  serpent  in  my  being  has  broken  the  golden 
chain  of  manhood  and  forged  a  slave's  fetters,  and 
with  his  scorpion  whip,  is  scourging  me  to-night. 
Do  you  wonder  that  I  am  despondent?" 

"No,  Joseph,  but  I  can't  believe  it,"  she  replied 
with  a  voice  of  tears,  while  her  face  was  turned 
away. 

Then  it  was  that  I  told  my  life's  story ;  and,  as  the 
lights  and  shadows,  the  successes  and  failures,  were 
revealed,  the  day  faded  into  twilight,  and  my  anxious 
listener  became  silent. 

At  last  the  tale  was  told,  and  for  sometime  the 
evening  hush  was  unbroken.  The  girl  by  my  side 
was  taking  another  step  into  that  higher  life  that 
sympathy    and    suffering    opens.     The    hopes    of  the 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  Hn 

past,  the  joy  of  the  present,  and  the  anticipations  of 
the  future,  were  warring  with  the  heartless  powers  of 
doubt,  disappointment  and  shattered  idol- worship. 
Finally,  with  a  stronger  womanhood,  bom  of  the 
higher  view,  she  arose,  saying: 

"Joseph,  there  is  One  who  is  mighty  to  save.  The 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  Him,  and  with 
His  stripes  we  are  healed. " 

"  For  the  Lion  of  Judah 
Shall  break  every  chain. 
And  give  us  the  victory 
Again  and  again." 


148  HIGH  JOE,  OR, 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


A  TYPICAL  CAMPAIGN. 

Alice's  words  had  a  strange  power  over  my  con- 
tending emotions,  and  like  oil  upon  troubled  waters, 
they  brought  a  calm — a  peace — a  freedom  from  the 
rage  of  appetite. 

"One  who  is  mighty  to  savel"  echoed  and  re-echoed 
in  my  thoughts  with  such  power  as  to  almost  make 
me  forget  to  follow  her  to  the  dining  room. 

As  I  leaned  back  in  an  easy  chair  which  she  drew 
to  the  table,  my  heart  cried:  "Oh,  for  some  one 
mighty  to  save  I  Is  there  such  a  power  in  the  \mseen 
Christ?" 

Then,  like  a  rushing  tempest  of  darkness  and 
storm,  came  the  blighting  suggestion:  "He  can't 
save  you;  if  so,  why  doesn't  He  blot  out  the  one  hun- 
dred saloons  that  make  it  so  difficult  for  you  to 
resist?  If  He  cared  to  help  you,  why  should  his  ais- 
ciples  vote  to  forge  chains  so  strong  as  to  bind  two 
million  men,  and  so  heavy  as  to  sink  one  hundred 
thousand  into  a  drunkard's  oblivion  every  year?  If 
the  Lion  of  Judah  can't  save  his  own  followers  from 
such  complicity,  how  can  He  save  a  poor  drinker — a 
victim  of  their  political  action?     It's  all  bosh,  bosh." 

These  thoughts  ran  through  my  mind  as  I  sat 
waiting  for  the  "ministering  angel"  to  bring  the 
lunch.  As  she  seated  herself  and  began  turning  1he 
fragrant  drink  from  a  dainty  teapot,  I  said  abruptly: 

"Do  you  think  those    words  are  true,    Alice,  when 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  149 

so  many  who  claim  to  have  been  saved  by  that 
•mighty  oce,'  sanction  a  traffic  that  ruins,  every  year, 
more  than  the  whole  church  converts?  My  bitter 
heart  says  it  is  all  a  humbug. " 

Looking  at  me  intently,  for  a  moment,  as  though 
deciding  whether  I  really  meant  it,  she  answered, 
with  a  gleam  in  her  eyes : 

"Joseph,  I  know  those  words  are  true.  Don't  doubt 
them  because  Christians  are  faithless  and  think  they 
must  compromise  with  evil  that  good  may  come. 
The  time  is  coming  when  our  faces  will  burn  with 
shame  at  the  bloody  part  we  have  had  in  destroying 
our  brothers;  but  to-night,  Joseph,  you  need  the 
power  of  a  new  heart  and  a  divine  helper. " 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  longing  gaze,  as  though 
she  would  have  me  rescued  whether  I  would  or  not. 
I  ate  in  silence,  and  the  hour  that  might  have 
made  me  a  new  man,  slipped  by  unimproved.  With 
almost  worship  for  the  Christian  girl  before  me,  I 
finally  bade  her  good-night,  only  to  toss  for  hours 
upon  my  bed,  warring  with  appetite. 

The  Major  called  for  me  the  next  morning  before  I 
awakened,  and  was  shown  to  my  room. 

"Come,  Joseph, "  he  began,  "we're  going  to  have  a 
picnic  to-night.  Blanchard  has  a  letter,  saying  a 
fellow  will  be  here  to  speak  on  political  temperance. 
He  came  in  early  to  tell  me,  and  a  runner  friend, 
when  he  heard  the  name,  said:  'Ah,  I  know  him. 
He  is  a  red-headed  Irishman,  but  I  tell  you,  he's 
a  'corker.'  If  you  can  get  people  out,  he'll  open 
some  blind  eyes.  He  can  say  more  in  an  hour  than 
aiiy  man  I  eyer  heard;  and  you  can't  find  any   loop 


150  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

holes  in  it,  either'.  Now,  Joseph,  we've  got  to 
make  ready  for  him.  It's  just  the  time  for  such  an 
address.  See;  here's  an  account  of  our  convention. 
The  News  tells  it  as  it  was,  while  The  Herald  lies 
like  blazes;"  and  he  handed  me  the  morning  papers. 
The  latter,  in  its  heading,  said: 

"a  grand  convention! 

And  a  Strong  Ticket  Nominated. — Harmony  and  En- 
thusiasm Prevailed. — A  Few  Kickers  Bolt,  but  the 
Sensible,  Conservative  Members  of  the  Party  will 
all  Stand  Loyally  by  the  Nominees. — Deacon  Johns, 
who  was  elected  Chairman,  is  Enthusiastic.  He 
says,  we  are  Well  rid  of  the  Impracticable  Crowd. 
— Now  for  a  pull  together. " 
The  extended  account    can    be    imagined  from  the 

heading.     Without  wading   through  it,   I  glanced  at 

The  News,   which  said: 

"a  gospel-saloon  pow-wow. 

Love  Feast  between  Brethren. — Harmony  between 
Bacchus  and  Christ. — The  Lion  and  Lamb  lie  down 
Together. — The  Church  G-ets  a  Resolution  and  the 
Saloons  G-et  the  Offices. — The  only  men  of  Con- 
viction, Bolt. — Major  Wright  at  the  Head  of  the 
Opposition. — Deacon  Johns  Embraces  the  Tiger.— 
Music  by  the  Full  Band,  is  Promised,  and  a  Red- 
headed Irishman  at  the  Court-House  To-night." 
The  very  tiger  of  bitterness  was  aroused  in  me  by 

those  words,  but  I  said  to  the  waiting  Major: 
"I'll  help  all  I  can.     Will  be  down  in  an   hour." 
A  busy  day  followed,     and    everything  possible  to 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  151 

get  out  a  large  crowd  was    done.      The  train  bearing 
the  speaker  arrived  just  in  time  for  the    lecture. 

We  drove  to  the  depot  to  meet  him,  and  were  not  a 
little  chagrined  on  seeing  a  travel-stained,  rough- 
bearded  man,  of  small  stature,  alight  and  inquire  for 
the  Court-House.  The  Major  introduced  himself  and 
escorted  the  stranger  to  the  carriage. 

"I  guess  we're  sold  this  time,  Joseph,"  he  whisp- 
ered as  we  sped  away.  "I  believe  that  friend  of 
mine  has  been  laughing  all  day  at  the  clever  way  in 
which  he  played  us.     I'll  get  even  with  him  yet. " 

I  hitched  the  team  while  the  Major,  at  the  lectur- 
er's request,  stopped  to  help  him  "brush  up  a  little;" 
then  we  entered  together.  The  room  was  packed 
with  a  curious  throng,  among  them  many  party  poli- 
ticians, ministers,  church-members  and  "roughs."  I 
took  a  seat  in  the  rear,  while  the  Major  escorted  the 
speaker  to  the  platform.  As  the  large  man  and  his 
small  orator  marched  up  the  isle,  a  general  titter  ran 
over  the  crowd;  but  the  former,  without  seeming  to 
notice  it,  immediately  called  the  meeting  to  order. 
Self-composed,  the  speaker  drew  a  large  roll  of  paper 
from  his  satchel,  and  laid  it  on  the  desk  just  in  time 
for  the  Major's  eye  to  catch  it  as  he  called  upon  Rev. 
Bliss  to  open  with  prayer.  The  scowl  on  the  chair- 
man's face  told  his  feelings,  and  I  wondered  what  he 
would  say.  He  made  short  work  of  it,  however,  and 
told  no  white  fibs  about  his  pleasure  in  being  able  to 
introduce,  etc.  ^. 

Undisturbed  by  the  cool  opening  or  the  titter  of 
the  crowd,  the  speaker  drew  their  attention  with  his 
first  words,  and  for  two  hours  held  his  audience  spell 


152  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

bound.  The  lines  in  the  Major's  face  soon  relaxed, 
and  he  stepped  down  in  front  to  get  the  full  benefit 
of  the  powerful  words  that  came  like  burning  coals 
from  a  well  filled  furnace.  Under  the  inspiring  sub- 
ject of  "The  Nation's  Hope,"  he  showed  the  desire 
of  man  for  progress,  and  his  power  by  political  action 
in  this  country;  the  debasing  influences  of  the  saloon, 
legalized  by  sovereign  voters;  and  the  necessity  for  a 
new  organization,  and  the  steady  growth  of  the  pro- 
hibition party — a  party  of  patriotism,  sacrifice  and 
conscience.  Had  he  been  pleading  a  case  in  court, 
the  audience,  as  sworn  jurymen,  must,  under  the  un- 
disputed facts  and  law,  have  given  him  an  unanimous 
verdict.  He  closed  with  an  invitation  to  all  to  join 
the  new  party.  The  audience  cheered  and  cheered, 
but  the  wily  politicians  frowned.  At  the  close,  the 
throng  pushed  their  way  out,  only  a  few  remaining 
to  acknowledge  the  conviction  which  his  words  had 
awakened.  The  Major  was  enthusiastic, — as  was 
Blanchard  and  his  friends, — and  remarked  that  we 
were  not  out  in  the  political  cold,  after  all,  but  evi- 
dently had  good  company. 

The  speech  has  since  been  printed,  with  others 
equally  strong,  I  have  heard,  but  I  have  never  seen 
the  speaker. 

Pastor  Bliss  was  carried  away  with  the  address, 
and  several  who  had  been  uncertain  as  to  the  remedy 
to  be  applied,  said  they  were  with  the  new  move- 
ment thereafter.  A  strong  though  not  large  club 
was  organized,  with  the  promise  of  better  things  for 
the  future. 

Alice  was  delighted  at  being  able  to  entertain    the 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  153 

speaker,    and  he    gave   me    some    valuable    literature 
which  was  followed  in  a  few  days  by  more. 

"Major,"  I  sai'd  the  next  morning,  "I'm  going  to 
take  the  stump  in  our  county  and  make  it  warm  for 
the  old  parties.  I  was  one  of  the  best  debaters  at 
college  and  believe  I  can  say  much  in  this  new  field. " 
"Good  for  you,"  was  the  answer.  "Just  take  your 
time  to  prepare  and  we'll  make  the  saloon  apolocrists 
squirm  before  the  campaign  is  over. " 

The  Herald,  the    morning    after  the  lecture,  said; 
"The    war   by    long-haired    men    and    short-haired 
women,  is  begun.     Last    night  saw  a  motley  gather- 
ing of  cranks  and  fanatics,  completely    carried  away 
by  a  red-headed  blatherskite,   who    took    special    de- 
light in  villifying  the  grand  old  party  of  moral  pro- 
gress and  true  temperance.     Such    speeches    set  the 
cause    back  by    taking  a  great,  moral  question    into 
politics.     This     howling    reformer    and    his    friends 
would    make    men    temperate  by  law.     He  evidently 
didn't  convert  maay,  for    only  a  handful  remained  to 
partake  of  the  short    love-feast.     Rev.     Squeers    and 
others  of  the    best  church  people  left  before    the  ad- 
dress was  done.      Their  love  for   the  only  real  reform 
party    can't   be    shattered  by  a  rabid  tirade  for  two 
hours,  from  an  irresponsible  stranger." 
The  News  said,  editorially: 

"The  address  last  evening  at  the  Court  House,  in 
favor  of  a  prohibition  party,  was  one  of  the  most  can- 
did, logical  and  brilliant  we  have  ever  had.  Xo  good 
cause  with  such  championship  can  fail  to  find  a  place 
in  the  people's  hearts,  despite  church  conservatism 
and  political    ostracism.     Whether    we  ao^ree    with  a 


15i  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

man  or  not,  we  know  when  he  is  candid  and  fair. 
We  bespeak  for  independent,  political  discussion  a 
candid  hearing,  and  voters  may  then  see  that  parties 
are  neither  eternal  nor  infallible.  They  may  also  see 
that  the  moment  they  are  seized  and  controlled  by 
bad  men,  that  moment  they  not  only  become  useless 
in  working  out  the  reforms  of  the  people  but  in- 
instruments  of  the  worst  kind  oi  slavery.  Whether 
or  not  all  drinking  is  wrong,  it  is  certain  that  the 
present  legalized  saloons  are  an  unmitigated  curse, 
that  efPectually  blocks  the  work  of  all  reforms,  par- 
ticularly of  the  church." 

In  the  evening,  the  other  political  party  held  its 
caucuses.  Here  again  the  saloons  were  well  repre- 
sented, with  fewer  church  members  than  the  other 
party,  but  enough  to  give  the  gatherings  an  air  of 
respectability.  Those  having  some  conscience  were 
silenced  by  the  noisy,  rum  supporters,  who,  as  might 
be  expected,  had  their  own  way. 

At  the  county  Convention,  a  good  number  of  earn- 
est, respectable  men  from  the  country  were  present, 
but  the  ring  got  control  in  organization,  and  passed 
a  resolution  to  prevent  debate. 

The  ticket  nominated  was  similar  in  its  make-up 
to  that  of  the  party  of  "moral  ideas, "  every  man  be- 
ins  acceptable  to  the   "brotherhood    of    destruction. " 

"Two  county  tickets,  as  near  alike  as  the  peas  in 
two  pods, "  was  the  way  in  which  The  News  compared 
them ;  while  The  Herald  praised  its  own  party  ticket 
by  saying,  it  was  the  only  one  tnat  church  people 
could  conscientiously  support. 

Thus  the  campaign  in  a  typical  county  of  br^ad  and 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  156 

free  America  was  opened,  with  Rum  on  top — first, 
last  and  all  the  time — no  matter  which  of  the  two  old 
parties  should  win.  The  only  protest  came  from  those 
who  saw  no  particular  good  to  be  lost  by  the 
defeat  of  either.  They  were  the  few  independent ' 
voters,  that  party  bosses  or  the  machine  lash — the 
curses  of  our  political  system — could  not    intimidiate. 

In  an  article,  some  days  later,  the  News  very  perti- 
nently asked : 

"  Where,  in  this  county,  are  the  more  than  fifty 
churches,  with  at  least  two  thousand  members?  Are 
they  leading  or  being  led?  Are  they  for  saving  men 
or  party?  Are  they  for  electing  a  principle  or  a 
party's  slate?  Are  the  sheep  and  the  goats  in  a  com- 
mon flock  or  can  you  tell,  next  November,  who  be- 
lono"s  on  the  right  hand  and  who  on  the  left  hand? 
Verily,  the  historic  church  is  in  a  deplorable  condi- 
tion, when  such  questions  can  reasonably  be  asked. 
Were  the  archangel  to  come,  would  he  not  say,  'Be- 
cause ye  are  neither  cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spew  you  out 
of  my  mouth'?" 


156  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXIL 


A  woman's  speech. 

The  days  following  the  lecture  were  full  of  discus- 
sion. Whether  men  had  been  converted  or  not,  the 
bold,  logical  address  and  the  indisputable  facts  could 
not  be  passed  unheeded.  Politicians  may  ridicule  in 
dependent  action  by  voters,  but,  underneath  the  busy, 
thoughtless  exterior,  there  is  something  attractive  in 
truth  well  told.  It  may  not  move  them  to-day  or 
this  year,  but  sooner  or  later,  the  weighty  facts  that 
are  coupled  with  the  weal  or  woe  of  humanity,  will 
bear  fruit. 

In  the  stores,  on  the  streets,  at  social  and  church 
gatherings,  conversation  turned  upon  the  evils  of  the 
liquor  traffic,  and  men  slowly  drew  the  line  between 
those  who  wished  to  see  the  saloons  destroyed  and  those 
who  were  willing  they  should  stay.  Unconsciously  the 
former  drew  closer  together  and  were  more  earnest, 
while  the  latter,  by  the  natural  result  of  apology  for 
one  evil,  came  to  look  with  greater  leniency  and  less 
abhorrence  on  all  infractions  of  both  the  moral  and 
the  civil  law. 

Public  meetings  became  the  general  order  of  all  par- 
ties. 

I  soon  entered  upon  my  work  as  a  campaigner,  and 
was  gratified  by  the  way  in  which  my  addresses  were 
received.  The  excitement,  the  desire  to  excel,  the 
words  of  approbation,  strengthened  me  to  resist  my 
a^:)petite. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STOHY.  157 

The  newspapers  of  the  county  ignored  us,  never 
mentioning  our  work,  except  to  disparage  it  or  rid- 
icule the  fanaticism  that  would  "make  men  sober 
by  law." 

As  I  returned  from  my  tours  and  narrated  the 
interesting  events,  T  found  Alice  a  most  attentive 
listener.  So  enthusiastic  did  she  become  that  she 
organized  a  ladies'  quartet  that  attended  many  of  my 
meetings  and  sang  stirring  songs.  Whether  I  was 
becoming  a  broader  man  or  not,  I  could  see  that 
Alice  was  daily  developing  by  work  and  thought  for 
others. 

In  the  library  at  home,  I  found  a  new  class  of 
books  and  papers,  showing  signs  of  careful  study, 
and  from  this  new  student  of  political  and  humani- 
tarian economy,  I  gathered  fresh  facts,  thoughts  and 
inspiration  for  my  work. 

Driving  from'  a  distant  part  of  the  county,  one 
afternoon,  to  fill  an  appointment  nearer  home,  I  was 
delighted  to  find  the  quartet  there  to  help  me;  and 
teams  coming  from  various  directions,  promised  a 
crowd.  I  was  tired,  but  did  not  realize  my  complete 
exhaustion  until  I  found  myself  too  sick  to  eat;  and 
all  remedies  failed  to  restore  my  gastric  muse. 

"Alice, "  I  said,  as  she  came  in  after  tea,  "you  will 
have  to  speak  for  me.     T  am  not  able. " 

She  laughed  her  merry  laugh,  but  I  said: 

"You  needn't  be  amused,  for  I  mean  it.  It  won't 
do  to  disappoint  people  who  have  come  ten  miles. " 

Sobered,  she  asked : 

"Joseph,  do  you  really  think  I  can  do  it?" 

**Certainly, "  I    replied;     "those    books   and  papers 


UA  HIGH  JOE;  OB^ 

haven"'  '    ''    '^-     '::"    :i::i:Lg.      !'eTer  iii:i'i  a 

speech,   _.  - ..  -: 

Witli  m  -  _•  ■;■  -  _■      ^it     .-::~.     ii^.    :■::  =.  :r:^it 


I    Sii' 


Jiast  before  time  for    the    meeting:    ~  A".::.e 

2,  amd   aiLMOusly  said:     '"O  Joscj;^  ;'  I 

:    OTffit^"*    I    answered;    ** but  you    ':■'.' 

f-;  '.  :  v:i  through,  I'"  lc.ve  ■:'.  ''''■:   :  ,-.  ;:r 

Half  an  hour  later,  a    ':.':t     r,r:  -..gi":  5.  '.::ie  ::r:in  *:h? 
ci 

:  -.  .^  1  a.-i  ::,;tT[ired.* 

v  and  at  nine  o'clock  comdnded  to 
-^r.  Slipping  into  the  CTOwded  room, 

ui  a   seat    near  the  door.     The  tall, 

gT.  ^ig^tman,    a^    =1^  ii:Ted 

5*;_..  ^5.5    the  centra  ::  a_^  ^J^^^-- 

H  -:: :  L  -,.  ~  -~  i.  -  .  ■  lai^  lamps,  neo  r  ■'.  7 . 

-    .\.\:    ■/:-  :£iedc  and  brr~.   c,s 

-;. ::  :-;:      _  -    L '.     'i\    .".'t   of  sdll,  crr,~ie-i 

:  -,.  -,  -, ,  ■  1 ' :  ^  i,  =  V  -;  -; :_  -. : :.  .  ^,= .     -.  i  ^ ',  :' :  rth  mnsicall j 

h\il  wiliL  y. -"-- :       L:-:r^  7  .   ':--:~  -''.\r  'le 

speaker  was  -i:  :  ' 
man  was  t  _  .  n  - 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  159 

been  stirred  by  the  thoughts  and  facts  here  presented? 
Is  there  a  real,  valid  reason,  or  are  we  unbalanced 
fanatics?  You  may  return  to  your  homes  to-night, 
and  perhaps  thoughtlessly  go  to  sleep ;  you  may  laugh 
at  the  men  who  defy  party  bosses,  and  call  them  cranks ; 
you  may  go  to  the  polls  next  November  and  support 
men  who  are  acceptable  to  the  liquor  interests, — men 
who  will  secure  both  the  saloon  and  the  church  votes; 
you  may  carry  a  torch,  shout  yourself  hoarse,  and  vote 
for  tariff  high  or  tariff  low,  for  hard  money  or  soft 
money,  for  this  or  that  issue  which  professional  poli- 
ticians throw  into  the  political  arena  to  deceive  the  ten 
million  voters  and  secure  two  million  office^;  but  the 
Almighty  hears,  and  the  time  is  coming  when  ijou  will 
hear.     Why  not  to-night? 

"What  are  political  issues  when  weighted  against 
human  suffering?  What  is  party  success,  when  the 
wheels  of  that  party  are  red  with  the  blood  of  the  vic- 
tims it  has  crushed  in  its  roll  to  power  and  honor? 

"  Can  one  child  suffer,  and  the  nation  not  be  weaker? 
Can  one  home  be  robbed  and  the  land  of  the  free  not 
tremble?  Can  wives'  hearts  be  made  to  bleed  and  the 
land  never  bleed  in  return  for  it?  Can  man  go  on  sin- 
ning politically  and  G-od  require  no  ransom?  If  I  can- 
not convince  your  heads,  may  I  not  reach  your  hearts? 
1  want  to  close  with  a  story,  and  when  you  have 
heard  all  that  can  be  said  for  the  tariff  and  silver,  for 
ci\il  service  and  party  service,  then  remember  it  and 
ask  God's  help  that  you  may  stand  for  men  and  prin- 
ciple rather  than  party;  for  an  issue  that  seeks  to 
bring  joy  for  sorrow,  and  freedom  for  bondage;  for  a 
party  that  will,  some  day   throttle    the  monster,  Rum. 


leO  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"Said  a  gentleman  who  has  spent  years  in  our  great 
cities,  helping  the  victims  of  that  monster: 

"  1  was  sitting  at  my  breakfast  table  one  Sabbath 
morning,  when  I  was  called  to  my  door  by  the  ring  of 
the  bell.  There  stood  a  boy  about  14  years  of  age, 
poorly  clad  but  tidied  up  as  best  he  could.  He  was 
leaning  upon  crutches,  one  leg  off  at  the  knee.  In  a 
voice,  trembling  with  emotion,  and  tears  coursing 
down  his  manly  cheeks,  he  said,  'I  am  Freddy  Brown, 
and  I  have  come  to  see  if  you  will  go  to  the  jail  and 
talk  and  pray  with  my  father;  he  is  to  be  hung  to- 
morrow for  the  murder  of  my  mother.  He  was 
a  good  man  but  whiskey  did  it.  I  have  three  little 
sisters  younger  than  myself,  and  we  live  in  a  back  al 
ley  in  a  dark  and  dingy  room.  I  do  my  best  to  support 
them,  by  selling  papers,  blacking  boots  and  doing  odd 
jobs,  but  we  are  awfully  poor.  Will  you  come  and  be 
with  us  when  father's  body  is  brought  home?  The 
governor  says  we  may  have  it  after  he  is  hung. '  I 
was  deeply  moved  and  made  haste  to  the  jail  where  I 
found  this  father.  He  acknowledged  that  he  must 
have  murdered  his  wife,  but  had  not  the  slightest  re- 
membrance of  the  deed.  He  was  crazed  by  drink,  or  he 
aever  would  have  committed  the  crime.  He  said,  'My 
wife  was  a  good  woman  and  faithful  mother  to  my  lit- 
tle children,  and  never  did  I  dream  that  my  hand 
could  be  guilty  of  such  a  crime.  The  man  could 
face  the  penalty  of  the  law  bravely,  but  he  cried 
as  if  his  heart  would  break  when  he  thought  of  leaving 
his  little  children  in  a  destitute  and  friendless  con- 
dition, and  I  read  and  prayed  with  him  and  left 
him   to    his    fate.      The    next    morning    I     made  my 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  161 

way  to    the    miserable    quarters   of   these   children, 
and  found  three  little  girls,  clad  in  rags,  upon  a  bed 
of     straw     in     one     corner.       They     were     expect- 
ing   the    body  of    their   dead    father,     and    between 
their  cries  and  sobs,  said,    'Papa  was  good  but  whis- 
key did  it;*  'Papa  was  good  but  whiskey  did  it.'     In  a 
little  time  two  strong   officers    came  bearing  the  body 
of  the  dead  father  in  a    rude,    pine  box.     The  cries  of 
the    children    were    so    heart-rending   that    the    men 
could    not      endure    it    and    hastened     away,     leav- 
ing    me  alone  with  them.     In  a    moment    the  manly 
boy   nerved    himself    and    said,     'Come    sisters,    kiss 
papa's  face,  before  it    is    cold.'     They  gathered  about 
it,  smothered  it  with    kisses,  and   between  their  sobs 
cried    out,     'Papa    was    good    but    whiskey    did    it;' 
•Papa  was    good   but    whiskey    did    it. '     I  raised  my 
heart  to  God  and  said,   'Oh  God!  did  I  fight  to  save  a 
country  that  would  derive  a  revenue  from,  a  traffic  that 
would    make   one   scene   like    this,    possible?     In  the 
whole  history  of    this    accursed    traffic  there  has  not 
been  enough    revenue    derived    to    pay   for  one  such 
scene  as  this.      The   wife  and  mother    murdered,  the 
father  hung,    the    children    outraged,    the    home  de- 
stroyed.'    I  there  promised   my  God  that  herealfeer  I 
would  vote  as  I  shot;    that,    as    a  Christian  soldier  I 
shot  to  save  my   country    from   the    rule  of  the  slave 
oligarchy,  I  would  now  vote   to  save  it  from  the  rule 
of  the  rum  oligarchy.     I  there  promised  that   no  po- 
litical party   too    cowardly    to   declare    for  absolute, 
uncompromising      prohibition      should     ever     again 
have  my  support  or  sovereign    ballot.     There    is  but 
11 


162  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

one  such,  the  Prohibition  party,  and  1  vote  that  ticket 
that  I  may  finish  the  work  at  the  ballot-box  that  I 
began  on  the  field  as  a  soldier.  A  system  of  govern- 
ment that  deHves  its  revenue  from  results  such  as  are 
ieen  in  this  touching  picture,  must  either  change  its 
eoune  or  die,  unless  God's  law  is  a  He.'*' 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY  163 


CHAPTER    XXIIL 


rum's  holocaust. 

As  the  loggers  saw  that  High  Joe  had  finished  his 
quotation,  they  broke  out  with  vigorous  cheers  and 
band-claps. 

"Golly,  she  was  a  buster!"  exclaimed  Pat  Kinney. 

"  Ze  muses  of  ze  heart,  makes  ze  woman  one  grand 
speaker, "  added   the    enthusiastic   Frenchman. 

"That  was  a  fine  speech,  Joseph,**  said  the  Colonel 
^ith  evident  appreciation.  "I  am  more  interested 
than  ever.  Guess  you  were  not  sorry  she  took  your 
place." 

"I  was  not,"  continued  High  Joe,  "for  I  felt  she  had 
reached  their  hearts  better  than  I  could."  Continu- 
ing, he  said: 

When  the  crowd  saw  she  had  finished,  their  applause 
was  deafening,  and  men  and  women  hurried  forward  to 
grasp  her  hand  and  assure  her  of  their  deepened  con. 
victions.  No  greetings  I  had  ever  received  equaled 
these  demonstrations.  With  the  grace  of  a  queen, 
she  received  them,  only  saying,  as  I  assured  her 
that  I  was  gratified  at  her  success: 

"I  am  glad,  Joseph,  if  I  met  your  expectations. " 

I  drove  home  with  the  quartette,  arriving  about 
midnight.  The  first  thing  that  greeted  our  eyes, 
was  the  light  of  a  burning  house.  When  we 
reached  it,  the  neighbors  were  carrying  the 
few  articles  of  furniture  out,  while  the  firemen 
made    ineffectual    attempts     to    save     the    building. 


164  EIGH  JOE;  OR, 

"How  did  it  all  happen?"  we  asked  of  a  brawny 
workmen. 

"  '  Twas  the  work  of  those  infernal  saloons,  again,  ** 
he  answered.  "Black  came  home  late,  full  of  whisky, 
and  found  his  wife  sick  and  the  room  dark.  With 
fiendish  cruelty,  he  went  to  the  stove,  took  out  a 
shovelful  of  coals,  and  going  stealthily  to  the  bed, 
threw  them  over  her,  and  then  held  down  the  bed- 
clothes  till  they  were  in  a  blaze  and  he  was  compelled 
to  retreat.  Blistered  and  burned,  with  her  clothing 
in  flames,  she  managed  to  escape,  only  to  fall  outside, 
literally  roasted.  She  has  been  cai»ried  to  the  hos- 
pital but  the  doctor  says  she  canno*  live.  The  fire- 
men pulled  him  out  nearly  suffocated,  and  saved  two 
of  the  children,  but  the  oldest,  who  was  upstairs, 
couldn't  be  reached.  Oh,  it  is  awful,  it  is  awful!" 
and  the  man  turned  away  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Soon  the  building  .fell,  and  we  hurried  home. 

"Let  me  change  my  clothes  and  then  drive  me  to 
that  suffering  woman,  Joseph,"    were  Alice's  words  as 

she  alighted. 

I  complied  and  soon  we  were  standing  by  the  suffer. 
er's  bedside.  With  wild  cries  of  pain,  she  writhed  in 
her  misery,  her  words  being  audible,  only  occasionally. 
We  caught  at  last  the  words : 

"John -was  a  good  man  when  he  could  let  liquor 
alone.     He  was  drunk  and  didn't  know  what  he  did.  " 

At  another  time  she  cried  in  agony.  "I'm  dying,  I'm 
(lying,  the  victim  of  saloons.  I  didn't  want  them 
and  John  didn't,  but  men  licensed  them  in 
spite  of  us.  I  can't  live  long,  but  when  I'm  dead, 
I'll  cry  to  God  night  and  day   until    He   destroys  the 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  165 

cursed  traffic  or  the  nation  that  sanctions  it.  Tell 
the  churches  that  I  don't  want  any  of  their  preaching, 
their  songs  or  their  prayers.  The  sanctimonious 
words  of  license  voters  won't  bring  any  blessing  to 
their  yictims,  even   if  God  would   hear  them;  but  he 

won't."  .     ,  , 

Then  after  writhing  for  half  an  hour, in  her  agony  be- 
yond the  power  of  medicine  to    soothe,    she  broke  out 

•t 

"Oh,  lam  dying,  I'm  dying.  It  is  getting  dark 
and  cold.  I  am  going  to  meet  my  God,  robbed  of  life, 
happiness  and  the  love  of  husband  and  children,  by 
the  saloon  guillotine  in  this  free  land.  All  hope  and 
faith  are  destroyed  by  the  bitterness  that  burns  on 
my  blistered  lips  or  racks  my  scorched  body.  If  there 
is  not  a  hell  for  men  who  deliberately  make  such 
things  possible,  there  ought  to  be.  Tell  them  that  I 
die,  cursing  the  godless  Moloch  worshippers  of  rum, 
the  craven  Christians  in  a  Christless  church;"  and  she 
threw  back  her  arms,  with  a  piercing  cry  of  pain,  and 

expired. 

Scarcely  able  to  control  herself,  Alice  stepped  to 
the  silent  form  and  closed  the  burned  eyelids,  then 
moved  away,  leaving  the  regular  attendants  to  ar- 
range the  simple  burial  rites. 

The  morning  News  published  the  sad  account  more 
fully  than  I  have  related  it,  and  closed  by  saying: 

"The  misery  of  the  auction-block  and  whipping-post 
was,  when  compared  with  such  suffering,  as   a  breath 

to  a  cyclone. " 

The  remains  of  the  burned  child  were  recovered  and 
placed  in  a  cheap  coffin  with  the  mother's,  and  a  few 


166  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

friends  followed  them  to  the  Potter's  Field.  No  pray- 
er was  said,  no  hymn  sung,  but  the  cold  clods  fell  di& 
mally  on  two  more  rum-crushed  bodies. 

Among  the  parties  in  this  bloody  drama,  none  real- 
ized their  guilt.  The  husband  was  too  besotted  and 
ruined  to  feel  the  heinousness  of  his  deed.  The  seller, 
hiding  behind  his  license  and  his  gold,  said,  "If  I 
don't  sell  somebody  else  will."  The  men  who  gave 
the  legal  sanction  by  voting  for  the  legislators  who 
enacted  the  laws  and  for  the  men  who  granted  the 
license,  wrapped  their  robes  of  righteousness  about 
them,  and  thanked  God  they  were  not  among  the  de- 
praved classes.  In  this  thoughtless  mood  the  various 
prayer-meetings  gathered  at  evening,  but  few  refer- 
ences were  made  to  the  holocaustal  sacrifice,  and  those 
threw  a  coldDess  over  the  meeting. 

I  inquired  the  next  morning  who  this  man  Black 
was,  and  found  that,  years  befo'''%  he  had  been  one  of 
the  brightest  business  men  in  the  city.  At  that 
time,  Colonel  Bray  kept  a  small  saloon,  near  the 
Herald  office  which  Black  owned.  Being  a  genia! 
fellow,  he  often  dropped  in  to  take  a  social  glass  with 
"the  boys,  *'  and,  in  time,  his  appetite  became  the 
master.  The  wily  saloon-man  pretended  to  help  him 
by  loaning  money  in  small  amounts  and  taking  mort- 
gages  on  the  printing  outfit.  'Twas  the  old  story  of 
robbery  under  the  guise  of  friendship.  The  bills  for 
liquors  were  added  to  the  loans,  and  finally  the  mort- 
gages were  foreclosed,  leaving  the  drinker  penniless 
and  his  family  paupers.  The  wife  remonstrated  with 
her  husband  and  with  his  destroyer,  but  to  no  effect. 
The  losses  and  disgrace  preyed  upon  her  till    she   be 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  M7 

came  very  bitter.  She  was  a  member  of  the  same 
church  with  Deacon  Johns,  and  often   had  plead  with 

him  and  others  to  close  the  saloons.  The  only  con. 
solation  she  received  was  the  assurance  that  they 
could  do  nothing,  and  if  no-license  prevailed,  men 
would  sell  just  the  same. 

Losing  faith  in  a  church  that  would  allow  its  mem- 
bers to  sanction  such  a  criminal  traffic,  she  withdrew, 
saying,  at  the  close  of  her  request  for  a  letter:  "The 
blood  of  my  ruined  husband  is  already  crying  to  God 
against  His  guilty  church.  How  many  victims 
there'll  be,  remains  a  dark  mystery,  but  I  live  in 
daily  expectation  of  death  by  violent,  rum-crazed 
hands." 

When  I  had  learned  the  facts,  I  was  not  surprised 
at  her  dying  curses.  The  paper,  then  owned  by  the 
legal  agent  .of  guilty  voters  and  doing  the  bidding  of 
a  guilty  party,  I  came  to  abhor  more  than  I  would  a 
disease-infected  garment.  If  I  had  been  in  earnest 
before,  to  destroy  the  creator  of  such  ruin,  I  then 
burned  with  a  new  zeal. 

The  buoyant    Alice    lost    her    interest    in    society 
gatherings  and  sought  to  learn  more  of  the  needs  and 
sufferings  of  drink's  victims.      Happy    but    subdued, 
she  became  a  wise  and  strong  adviser  in  our  work,  al 
ways  hopeful  though  others  were  discouraored. 

The  husband,  after  a  trial  and  conviction,  was  sent 
to  the  penitentiary  for  a  term  of  years,  but  the  worse 
than  orphaned  children  found  a  home  at  the  Vight- 
man's  and  almost  a  mother  in  the  girl  of  consecrated 
purpose. 


BIQH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


PEOHIBITION    PROHIBITS. 

I  received  an  invitation  to  speak  at  a  village  some 
miles  distant,  the  next  Saturday  evening  and  assist 
in  Gospel  meetings  on  Sunday,  with  a  request  to 
"  bring  the  quartette  along.  "  We  accepted  and  were 
greeted  by  a  packed  house.  For  year?  the  town  had 
succeeded  in  electing  men  who  would  not  license  sa- 
loons, but  they  had  been  compelled  to  fight  constantly 
the  men  of  "good  moral  character," — such  as  are 
legalized  by  other  municipalities — who  run  "blind 
pigs, "  "holes-in-the-wall.  "  "spe^-easies,  "  etc.  The 
business  men  were  tired  of  giving  and  doing,  and 
greeted  the  political  movement  for  state  and  national 
prohibition  as  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day;  but  the 
great  problem  was,  how  to  leave  their  old  parties  and 
not  "  throw  their  votes  away. " 

The  bugbears  that  politicians  use  to  scare  innocent 
voters  had  all  been  preached  and  published  here  as  else- 
where, till  every  time  a  truth  tried  to  enter  a  man's 
heart,  or  conscience  plead  for  a  hearing,  a  political 
ghost-dancer  or  hobgoblin,  arose  in  all  of  its  hideous- 
ness.  Thus,  while  wishing  for  freedom,  all  had  been 
held  political  bondmen. 

At  the  close  of  my  address,  Alice  related  the  story  of 
the  poor,  burned  woman,  and  with  breathless  attention, 
all  listened,  deeply  moved. 

"  And  now,  my  friends, "  she  said,  "will  you  continue 
to  support  a  party  that  sanctions  the  ruin,    not  only  of 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  169 

one,  but  thousands  of  such  homes,  or  will  you  shut 
your  ears  to  the  voices  of  wily,  office-seeking  politi- 
cians, and  fearlessly  stand  for  the  salvation  of  men 
and  the  homes  of  our  nation?" 

"We'll  vote  as  we  pray  1"  shouted  a  gray-haired  man 
at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"Will  you?"  queried  the  earnest  girl;  "how  many 
are  ready  to  bum  their  old  political  ships  and  enlist  in 
the  army  that  is  striking  for  our  altars  and  our  fires? 
I  want  only  calm  judgment,  stirred  by  a  tender  con- 
science, to  influence  you,  but  I  do  want  to  know  how 
many  have  made  a  choice;  will  all  such  stand?" 

At  once  nearly  every  womao.  and  about  a  dozen  men 
*  stood.     At   the  wave  of   her  hand   they  were  seated, 
when  she  continued : 

"All  honor  to  the  tender  hearted,  true  women  and 
the  loyal  men,  who  are  willing  to  be  counted  squarely 
on  the  side  of  humanity ;  but  God  pity  the  men— the 
sovereign  voters — who  are  willing  to  enslave  their 
brothers  to  save  their  party.  Protection  of  homes  out- 
weicrhs  protection  of  industries.  Free  men  are  price- 
less when  compared  with  free  trade.  Service  for  God 
is  far  above  the  mocking  civil-service  advocated  by 
parties  that  make  merchandise  of  hearts  and  homes. 
To  you,  fathers,  let  me  say  in  the  words  of  our  pro- 
phetic Lowell: 

"  They  make  slaves  of  children's  children. 
Who  m^ke  comproniise  with  sin  I " 

The  meeting  closed  and  we  were  taken  to  comfortable 
homes.  It  seemed  as  though  I  had  scarcely  dropped 
asleep  when  I  was  aroused  by  the  vigorous  ringing  of 


170  HIGH  JOE,  OR; 

the  church  bell,  and  opening  my  eyes,  found  it  was 
already  daylight.  Going  to  the  window,  I  saw  people 
hurrying  along  the  street.  Thinking  there  was  a  fire, 
I  dressed  and  hastened  out.  Turning  a  corner,  a  few 
blocks  away,  I  was  surprised  to  find  a  crowd  around 
an  old  building,  in  the  front  door  of  which  stood  a 
desperate  looking  man  flourishing  a  large  knife.  Look- 
ing over  the  crowd,  I  saw  Alice  and  her  companions. 
"What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked  of  a  man  who  viewed 
the  strange  scene  with  great  complacency. 

"You   see   that  wiry-looking  little   woman  near  the 
walk  over  there?"  he  asked. 

"I  do,"  I  answered,   "but  what  of  her?" 

"She's  the  wife  of  a  Scotch  lime-kiln  keeper  ou^ 
about  two  miles.  He  had  been  steady  and  making 
money  until  that  fellow  in  the  door  began  to  run  a 
*speak-easy. '  Then  Mack  took  to  drink,  squan- 
dering his  money  and  abusing  his  wife.  This  morn- 
ing he  went  home  about  daylight  and  drove  her  oul 
doors.  Her  Scotch  grit  was  up,  and  seizing  the  ax, 
she  started  for  town.  She's  always  a  good  walker,  bul 
the  way  she  marched  into  the  village  was  a  caution. 
Having  more  grit  than  all  the  men  in  town,  she  made 
up  her  mind  that  prohibition  could  be  made  to  pro- 
hibit; and,  acting  on  this  decision,  went  straight  for 
the  *  speak-easy.  *  Kratz  had  gone  up  stairs  to  get  a 
little  sleep,  but  neglected  to  lock  the  door.  Finding 
it  frea  she  entered,  tipped  over  two  barrels,  and 
knocked  in  the  heads.  By  that  time  the  old  tiger  was 
aroused  and  she  *  skipped  out.  *  H\irrying  to  the 
chui'ch,  she  rang  the  bell  vigorously,  than  reiurned  to 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  171 

tell  the  cause   of   the   alarm.     The   story   spread   like 
wild-fire. 

Armed  with  knife  and  revolver,  Kratz  appeared  In 
his  doorway  cursing,  swearing,  and  daring  any  or  a  to 
meddle  with  his  affairs  again.  While  the  people  have 
gathered,  the  little  Scotch  woman  has  nagged  him 
with  all  kinds  of  questions,  and  you  can  now  under- 
■stand  the  situation. 

"I  see,"  T  answered,  looking  over  the  crowd  that  had 
doubled  in  five  minutes. 

Among  those  at  the  front,  was  the  tall  form  of  the 
minister,  whose  church-bell  had  called  the  people  to 
such  a  stranofe  service.  He  was  a  brawn v,  fearless 
fellow,  known  as  an  uncompromising  foe  to  the  liquor- 
traffic.  Several  women  were  pushing  their  way 
among  the  crowd,  and  strong  men  moved  to  the 
front.  Finally  the  pastor's  wife  touched  me  on  the 
arm  and,  as  I  bent  down,  whispered : 

"The  men  are  going  to  hold  Kratz  while  we  spill 
his  liquors.     Will  you  prevent  any  one  interfering?" 

"I'll  be  doorkeeper  unless  I  can  help  otherwise,"  I 
answered,  and  made  my  way  to  the  minister's  side. 

Suddenly  I  saw  a  man  hurry  to  the  back  of  the 
building  and,  an  instant  later,  the  swearing  keeper 
turned  to  meet  the  enemy  in  the  rear.  This  was  the 
time  for  action,  and  a  bootless  man  sprang  up  the 
steps,  followed  closely  by  several  others  including  the 
pastor.  Before  Kratz  knew  they  were  coming,  the 
leader  threw  his  arms  around  him  and  others  caught 
his  hands.  The  struggle  lasted  but  a  moment.  Sud- 
-denly  a  voice  called  out,  "Come  on, "  and  the  women 
jhm-ried  in,  led  by  Mrs.  Mack,      "Crash,  crash, "    came 


172  HIGH  JOE   OR; 

the  sounds  from  within.  The  crowd  surged  wildly, 
some  showing  fear,  while  others  shouted,  laughed,  and 
crowded  up  to  the  door.  "Crash,  crash,"  went  the 
blows  again,  and  "smash,  smash,"  sounded  the  break- 
ing bottles. 

Presently  a  man  rushed  up  to  me  and  exclaimed : 
"What's  up?     What  are  they  doing  in  here?" 

"Only  enforcing  the  law,"  I  answered.  "G-uess  they 
don't  need  any  help." 

"I'm  the  village  marshal.  Let  me  in.  It's  my 
duty  to  stop  this  mob,"  he  exclaimed,  trying  to  push 
by. 

"No  you  don't,"  I  answered.  "You've  kept  still 
while  this  man  has  violated  the  law,  and  now  you 
may  sit  still  while  others  deal  out  justice  to  the  law- 
breaker;" and,  placing  my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  T 
forced  him  to  sit  down  on  the  steps  and  await  results. 
The  people  laughed  and  cheered,  some  shouting,  "Pro- 
hibition don't  prohibit" ;  "Prohibition  can't  be  en- 
forced;" "public  sentiment  won't  support  it;"  and 
similar  remarks  which,  I  afterwards  learned,  were 
the  excuses  common  to  the  derelict  officer. 

Soon  the  spilled  liquors  rushed  through  the  door 
and  around  the  Marshal. 

At  that  some  one  called  out  with  a  Scripture  quota- 
tion :  "When  the  enemy  shall  come  in  like  a  flood,  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  shall  lift  up  a  standard  against 
him. " 

Another  exclaimed :  "The  flood  compassed  me  abcnt ; 
all  thy  billows  and  thy  waves  passed  over  me. " 

In    a   stentorian    voice   some  one  shouted:    " Amec ! 


THE  LOGGERS  SOTRY.  173 

Amen!"  while  the  officer  moved  aside  with   the    liquor 
dripping  from  his  clothes. 

The  struggle  within,  and  the  crashing  of  wood  and 
glass  continued,  when  suddenly  I  saw  the  enraged 
liquor-seller  get  one  hand  loose.  Thrusting  it  within 
his  coat,  he  grasped  a  concealed  dagger,  and,  with  a 
flash,  drove  it  toward  one  of  his  captors.  A  moment 
later  and  human  gore  -mingled  with  the  flowing 
liquors,  but  not  from  the  intended  victim.  The  min- 
ister, with  his  cool  eye,  saw  the  movement,  and,  as 
the  glittering  weapon  came  toward  his  companion,  he 
grasped  the  keen  blade.  One  twist  was  all  the  in- 
furiated Kratz  could  give  it  before  other  hands  dis- 
armed him,  but  that  turn  gashed  the  heroic  palm, 
nearly  severing  one  finger. 

At  last  the  work  was  done.  United  manhood  and 
womanhood  had  vindicated  an  outraged  law  and  pun- 
ished a  deserving  criminal.  Before  quitting  the  build- 
ing, they  carefully  disarmed  the  dangerous  man  and 
told  him  that  the  first  overt  act  on  his  part  would 
be  summarily  punished  as  it  deserved. 

He  followed  them  to  the  door,  still  cursing  and 
threatening.  Then  it  was  that  the  wife  of  one  of  his 
victims  found  an  opportunity  to  give  vent  to  her 
feelings.  Going  as  near  as  she  dared,  she  asked,  in 
the  lull  between  his  oaths: 

"Mr.  Kratz,  may  we  have  the  barrels  for  fuel?" 

"No,  d — n  you,"  he  shouted,  "I'd  rather  burn  a 
a  woman's  soul;"  and  with  a  spring  toward  her,  he  at- 
tempted to  strike  a  heavy  blow,  but  I  grasped  him. 

In  an  instant  a  dozen  men  surrounded  him,  a  rope 
was  thrown  over  his    head,   and,    at   a   double-quick, 


174  HIQH  JOE;  OR, 

they  hurried  him  to  a  large  tree.  Up  went  a  man, 
and  a  moment  later,  the  rope,  dangling  over  a  large 
limb  was  caught  by  determined  hands  and  drawn 
taut;  but  the  tone  of  the  man  changed.  His  oaths 
gave  way  to  cries  for  mercy.  His  white  face  told 
the  terrible  fear  that  his  last  moment  had  come. 

"Kratz,  be  quiet,"  shouted  a  stern  voice.  "Will 
you  promise  to  get  out  of  here  in  three  hours  and 
never  return  if  we  let  you  go?" 
"I  will,  I  will,"  was  his  emphatic  answer, 
•'All  right,  then,"  said  the  same  voice;  "we'll  ap. 
point  a  committee  to  look  after  you.  If  you  don't 
want  more  rope  or  water  than  will  be  healthful,  you 
will  see  that  your  promise  is  kept.  Now  move  live- 
ly.    Loosen  the  rope,  boys. " 

As  the  noose  was  removed,  the  scared  man  stag- 
gered away,  his  trembling  limbs  scarcely  able  to  sup. 
port  him,  and  three  sturdy  young  men  followed. 
Jumping  upon  a  box,  a  gray-haired  man  shouted: 
"Gentlemen,  fellow-citizens :  We  want  to  give  no. 
tice  now  to  all  men  who  think  they  can  violate  the 
law  ride  rouo-hshod  over  the  will  of  a  Christian  com- 
munity, and  debauch,  rob  and  ruin  boys  and  men, 
that  the  next  one  who  undertakes  it  will  find  speedy 
punishment  by  hemp  or  water.  We  propose  to  fight 
for  our  altars  and  our  fires,  and  we  say  now  and  for 
all  time,  beware!  We  also  call  upon  Jack  Murphy, 
the  marshal,   to  resign. " 

"I'll  do  it,"  shouted  Murphy  coming  forward  almost 
as  badly  scared  as  Kratz. 

"All  rio-ht,  said  the  self-appointed  chairman;  "those 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  X76 

who  are  in  favor  of    accepting    Murphy's  resignation 

will  say  'Aye/  " 

"Aye,  aye!"  shouted  the  crowd  almost  to  a  man, 
while  vigorous    "amens"  followed  as  echoes. 

"Now  we  want  a  meeting  of  the  village  board  to- 
morrow morning  at  eight  o'clock,"  continued  the 
chairman,  "to  elect  a  man  of  courage  to  fill  Murphy's 
place.  Don't  let  any  member  be  absent.  Friends, 
our  worship  to-day  will  mean  something.  Let  us  re- 
peat the  Lord's  prayer;"  and  in  vigorous  tones  he  led 
off,  while  the  people,  subdued  and  with  bowed  heads, 
followed. 

As  the  hearty  "amens"  were  uttered,  the  chair, 
man  resumed. 

"We  will  now  sing  the  Doxology,  then  Brother 
White  will  dismiss  us  with  a  benediction." 

With  the  same  vigor,  all  joined  in  singing: 
"Praise  G-od  from  whom  all  blessings  flow;" 
then  the  stalwart  pastor  spread  out  his  hands  and 
besought  a  blessing,  with  no  more  blights  from  al. 
oohoL 


m  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


TARIFF  AND    PROTECTION. 

We  reached  home  the  next  day  toward  noon,  and 
found  preparations  being  made  for  a  great  political 
meeting  that  evening.  There  were  large  mills  in  the 
city  employing  many  workmen,  and  arrangements 
had  been  perfected  to  have  them,  and  others  who  wer« 
expected  to  arrive  by  special  trains,  parade  tho. 
streets.  Great  posters  announced  a  noted  congress- 
man as  the  orator  of  the  occasion  and  that  he  would 
discuss  "protection  and  the  workman. " 

The  largest  hall  in  the  city  was  decorated  with 
mottoes  and  banners  on  which  were  inscribed:  "We 
never  forget  the  workman" ;  "Vote  for  protection  and 
good  wages" ;  "The  party  of  progress  and  protec 
tion" ;  "Tariff  makes  good  homes,  contented  wives 
and  happy  children" ;  "G-ood  crops,  good  prices  and 
good  government" ;  "Free  trade  for  the  masses  means 
wealth  for  the  classes";  "Protected  labor  means 
wealth  for  all. " 

Long  before  dark,  the  crowds  began  to  arrive,  and 
at  seven  o'clock,  not  less  than  two  thousand  men  were 
in  line,  led  by  bands  and  banners.  Up  and  down  the 
streets  for  an  hour  they  marched,  cheered,  and  yelled. 
When  the  time  arrived,  the  great  hall  was  packed 
and  hundreds  turned  away. 

For  two  hours  the  Honorable  Mr.  B.  told  of  the 
grand  work  of  his  party;  how  the  country  was  rent 
and  bankrupt  when  it  took  charge  of  the  government; 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  177 

and  how,  after  the  war  was  successfully  fought  out, 
it  had  brought  prosperity  and  riches — by  the  tariff. 
He  told,  over  and  over,  how  high  wages  of  workmen 
were, compared  with  those  of  Europe — all  because  of  the 
tariff;  described  American  homes,  with  pictures,  carpets 
and  music, — all  the  result  of  the  tarff;  traveled  over 
the  farms  of  the  West  and    told    of   their  good  prices 

and  increasing  prosperity  because  of  "home  markets" 

created  by  the  tarff.  The  speaker  even  traced  the 
growth  of  education  and  religion  to  the  tariff.  So- 
briety and  intelligence, morality  and  inventive  genius, 
great  natural  resources  and  perfected  machinery, 
were  mentioned,  only  as  a  product  of  the  speaker's 
party  policy  of  protection.  The  crowds  cheered  each 
turn  of  the  political  kaleidoscope,  till  the  shifting 
scenes    became    tedious.       Only   one  thing  stood  out 

clearly    to    the    minds    of    listeners   at   the    close, 

"tariff,  "  "tariff] "  "tariff,  "  "high-tariff.  " 

The  interesting  scene,  however,  was  to  come. 
Some  of  the  opposing  party,  knowing  of  many  destit- 
ute families  in  the  city,  found  one  whose  mother, 
tired  out  at  the  washtub,  had  broken  down  and  could 
work  no  longer.  The  father,  an  industrious  work- 
man unable  to  get  employment,  had  just  returned 
by  begging  and  tramping  two  hundred  miles,  to  find 
his  family  nearly  starved.  The  cruel  politicians 
placed  this  family  in  an  old  wagon,  drawn  by  a  span 
of  "rack-bone",  hobbling  horses,  and  drove  to  the 
front  of  the  hall.  There  they  stood,  when  the  meet- 
ing adjourned,  the  hungry  children  devouring  food 
that  the  father  gave  them  from  a  basket — the  remains 
12 


178  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

of  the  politicians'  supper.  A  banner  over  the  wagon, 
read:  "The  workman's  family  enjoys  the  fragments 
of  a  tariff  supper. "  "Tariff  and  tears  make  happy 
homes  and  handsome  wives."  "Workmen's  children 
just  dote  on  the  tariff."  "Mothers,  ask  for  tariff; 
nothing  like  it  for  starving  children. " 

The  yelling  crowd  grew  quiet  at  the  scene.  The 
workmen  knew  the  ragged  man  who  was  feeding  his 
starving  babes,  and  the  political  thunder  died  away. 
Suddenly  they  stole  homeward,  dropping  torches  and 
banners  along  the  walk  till  it  looked  as  though  a 
cyclone  had  struck  a  political  headquarters. 

"Who  brought  you  here?"  asked  one  of  the  leaders 
angrily  of  the  man. 

"Don't  know,  boss,"  was  his  answer;  "a  man  drove 
up  and  told  us  if  we'd  get  in  he'd  take  us  where  we 
could  get  plenty  to  eat,  and  we  came.  Wouldn't 
you    if    your    children's    cheeks    were    as    hollow  as 

those?" 

"I  don't  know    and    don't   care,"  was    the  answer, 

with  an  oath. 

The  scene  had  spoken  volumes  to  the  men  not  in- 
terested  in  securing  offices,  and  the  reaction  the 
next  day  was  great.  At  every  stop  in  their  work  or 
wherever  men  gathered  in  groups,  the  question  was 
asked  in  one  form  or  another,  "What  part  have  we  in 
the  tarif  or  in  free-trade?  We  can't  tell  which  is 
right,  and  men  who  are  after  office  are  not  the  most 
reliable  advisers. " 

Some  of  the  good  women  of  the  city  had  arranged 
for  an  address  the  following  evening  by  that  "queen  of 
homes,"  whose  name  has    become     a    household  word 


THE  LOGOERS  STORY.  1^ 

wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken.  The 
morning  papers  announced  it,  the  Herald  to  criticise 
••the  wo°man  who  disgraced  her  sex  by  seeking  no- 
toriety through  public  speeches;"  the  News  to  speak 
in  the  highest  terms  of  the  woman  who  was  "arous- 
ing the  mothers  and  daughters  of  the  nation  to  home 
protection,  and  making  the  mystic  'W.  C.  T.  U.'  a.^ 
household  charm  and  Inspiration." 

Alice  was  busy  all  day  "completing  arrange- 
ments,"  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  aiding  in  many 
ways.  When  the  train  arrived,  we  met  the  speaker, 
and  on  the  homeward  drive,  Alice  imparted  some  of 
the  plans  for  the  evening. 

" Those  are  good,  very  good,"  were  her  listener's 
words  as  we  halted ;  "I  will  make  my  address  fit  them. " 

For  this  meeting  there  were  no  marching  crowds, 
no  shouting  heelers,  no  flaring  torches.  Quietly  the 
people  gathered  till  the  large  hall  was  packed.  Be- 
hind the  curtain  a  strange  panorama  was  being 
planned.  At  last,  as  the  painted  canvass  was  rolled 
aloft,  a  novel  scene  appeared. 

Major  Wright,  Alice  and  the  speaker  were  the 
central  figures.  Distributed  about  them  were  Ben 
Pitts  and  his  family,  the  children  of  Black  and  of 
Peter  Mackin,  while  at  the  right  and  left  were 
more  than  a  dozen  ragged,  hungry  little  ones  and  their 
sad-faced  mothers.  A  man  whose  limbs  had  been 
crushed  by  the  cars  while  he  was  drunk,  occupied  a 
wheel-chair,  and  near  him  sat  a  white-haired  woman 
whose  four  sons  with  their  father,  filled  drunkards' 
ards'   graves. 


180  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 

Major  Wright  opened  the  meeting,  after  prayer  and 
song,  by  saying: 

"Friends,  we  listened  to  the  beauties  of  tariff  pro- 
tection last  evening,  and  at  its  close,  saw  the  starving 
family  of  an  industrious  workman.  To-night  we  shall 
hear  of  home  protection  and  see  some  of  the  victims 
of  a  terrible,  tarifi-protected  industry;"  then  he  in- 
troduced Alice  as  one  who  could  tell  better  than  he, 
the  story  of  the  broken  bodies  before  them. 

Vividly  she  portrayed  the  terrible  scenes  through 
which  this  array  of  victims  had  passed,  and  the  hand- 
kerchiefs in  the  audience  told  how  the  sorrowful  tales 
touched  their  hearts. 

After  her  brief  remarks,  she  introduced  the  speaker. 
I  shall  not  attempt  to  tell  you  of  the  address.  For 
an  hour  that  grand  woman  compared  hearts  and  dol- 
lars, homes  and  tariff,  souls  and  parties,  philanthrop- 
ists and  politicians,  duty  and  politics,  till  it  did  not 
seem  possible  for  any  to  refuse  to  join  with  her  in 
the  work  she  advocated.  Her  words,,  commending  the 
new  party,  brought  hope  and  encouragement  to  the 
few  who  had  declared  for  political  prohibition,  and 
made  converts.  The  high-flown  oratory  of  the  previ- 
ous evening  became  like  thin  air  when  the  cause  of 
humanity  and  the  nation  was  weighed  against  it. 

At  the  close  of  the  address,  more  than  a  score  of 
names  of  women  who  would  join  a  local  union  were 
obtained,  and  the  next  forenoon  was  spent  in  that 
work. 

Not  to  be  outdone  by  politicians,  the  women  had 
secured  and  hung  on  the  walls,  painted  banners, 
some  of  which  read:      "The  strength  of  a  nation  is  in 


TBB  WGQEKS  STORY.  181 

.V        =■• .  "Women  bare  poUtical  duties ;"  "True  men 
:ts  homes   ,    ^~        ?   ..parties  like  weeds,  soon 

^e  not  o-f^,.2^.P.^    t;,,,  century  plant,  is  a  long 
go  to  seed,     _  Tai_.fi  ^^  ^^^^  ^^^  j^^^ 

,i^e  blossoming     JV,^  -    ^^^^^^^        ^^  ^^^^  ^,,,, 

e  Jtement  was'at  a  .hite   beat,  and  politics  monopo- 
lized thought  and  <^^:^^'llfl^  j,l,^a3  scoured 
,,e  various  candidate     and    the.  ^^^^^^^  ^^^^ 

^'lueT^e  :Lons,  ;Sed  everybody  or  left  money 
luh  thei  ••politicll  club-houses"  to  influence  or  pur- 
,  evoes  The  keepers  became  the  power  mpoU. 
which  each  candidate  felt  he  must  rely  for 
*"''  ::  kIow  ngtbelr  power  they  intimated  what 
TTd  be  done  wL  could  be  influenced,  and  what  t 
ridco:t:rt.e    wM.   raking   in  the  dollars  and 

v.-    rr  «t  the  fools  who  wanted  office. 

'Tn';—  a.,    outspoken    opponents    of  the  sa. 

inaepe        .  friPiid-    and  "influential    men, 

^T:  JI\::;  i    wouldtsult  from  deserting  their 

":fd  part's"    and    throwing    their  votes    away    was 

^^  t:  rur^in-strd 

rhrS;"wSp"°rsr  fleeing  to  the  Old  po^ 

^Xton Sytml'  and  when  the  votes  werecounted 
wnds    were   ahead.     Regardless   of  political 
Z:  thHatoIs  had  elected  only  those  me.  who  had 


182  HIGH  JOE:  OR, 

gotten  down  the  deepest  in  the  mud  and  spent  the 
most  money. 

Covered  with  chagrin  and  defeat,  many  looked  back 
on  months  of  debauchery  with  nothing  gained,  but 
money  and  self-respect  lost. 

After  all  the  work  and  sacrifice,  our  party  only 
received  a  few  hundred  votes  in  the  county,  and, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  gain  was  largest  in  the 
country  and  smallest  where  churches  were  the  most 
numerous. 

The  morning  after  election,  "The  Herald"  announced 
In  glowing  head-lines,  the  success  of  its  party  in  the 
state  and  nation,  and  called  for  a  grand  rally  to  cele- 
brate the  victory,  that  evening. 

I  visited  the  municipal  court  and  found  more  than 
a  score  of  "drunks"  with  a  half  dozen  arrested  for 
assaults  on  election  day. 

None  offered  any  defense,  and  the  court  ground 
them  all  through  in  half  an  hour,  imposing  costs  and 
fines  aggregating  over  three  hundred  dollars;  about 
half  paid,  but  the  others  went  to  jail  for  from  five  to 
twenty  days,  for  the  taxpayers  to  board.  Many  of 
these  were  men  of  families  and  were  thus  compelled 
to  leave  those  depending  on  them  to  "shift  for  them- 
selves. " 

At  night  the  great  hall  was  again  packed.  Colonel 
Bray  nominated  Deacon  Johns  for  chairman,  and  he 
was  elected  amid  wild  shouts  and  hand-clapping.  On 
the  platform  were  the  Colonel  and  several  other  sa- 
loon men,  who  had  done  valiant  service  for  the  party, 
with  a  half  dozen  ministers  and  the  «;uccessful  candi- 
dates. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  183 

With  hearty  congratulations,  the  chairman  opened 
the  meeting,  and  was  followed  by  the  Colonel  who 
told  of  the  arduous  work  of  the  campaign,  praising  the 
men  who  had  helped  achieve  the  victory. 

"The  small  vote  of  the  cranks"  he  said  with  exulta- 
tion, "  will  teach  them  how  foolish  it  is  to  buck  their 
heads  against  mountains.  I  have  more  respect  for  a 
Democrat  than  for  the  man  who  hypocritically  seeks 
to  aid  our  opponents  by  organizing  a  party  of  sore- 
heads.    I  predict  that  they'll  never  do  it  again. " 

As  he  sat  down  the  crowd  cheered,  ministers, 
chairman  and  saloon  men  uniting  in  the  enthusiasm. 
Thus  was  brought  to  its  close  a  great  American 
political  conflict.  The  saloons  had  dictated  nomina- 
tions, determined  elections,  and  were  now  prepared 
to  demand  implicit  obedience  and  faithful  service  from 
their  servants. 


184  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THE  WORK  OP  A  PLOTTER. 

Immediately  the  faithful  service  began.  For  twelve 
years  the  administrations,  respecting  the  wish  of  the 
people,  had  retained  one  man  as  postmaster.  No 
sooner  was  the  election  over  than  the  Colonel  began 
to  plan  for  a  change,  and  circulated  a  petition  for  the 
appointment  of  one  of  his  most  faithful  campaign 
workers.  As  soon  as  the  people  ascertained  what  was 
being  done,  a  counter-petition  was  circulated  and 
hundreds  of  names  obtained  including  the  best  busi- 
ness men  throughout  the  city.  Saloon  politics,  how- 
ever, won,  and  in  a  few  months  the  responsible  po- 
sition of  handling  the  mail  was  given  to  a  man  whose 
only  recommendation  was  his  ability  to  deliver  politi- 
cal goods  to  the  highest  bidder. 

Of  the  many  offices  to  be  filled,  the  Colonel  succeeded 
in  dictating  at  least  two-thirds  of  the  appointments. 
There  was  scolding  and  adverse  criticism  from  those 
who  prized  character  in  high  places,  but  the  value  of 
such  services  as  the  "Boss"  could  render,  more  than 
outweighed  them  all.     Put  in  a  few  words,  rum  ruled. 

There  was  agitation  for  a  time,  but  as  the  dominant 
element  succeeded,  everything  dropped  back  in  the 
usual  order,  except  that  the  violations  of  laws  restrict- 
ing the  saloon  traffic  were  more  flagrant  than  ever. 

None  received  political  recognition  unless  they  had 
done  vigorous  work  for  the  party,  and  yet  few  seemed 
to  regard  it  as  in  any  sense  extraordinary. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  185 

The  friends  who  had  been  laboring  for  the  upbuild- 
ing of  a  party  that  would  outlaw  the  saloons,  came  to. 
gether  for  a  general  conference.  After  much  thought 
and  discussion  it  was  unanimously  decided  that  the 
close  of  the  campaign  should  not  be  the  end  of  their 
work,  but,  by  the  most  vigorous  organization  possi- 
ble, they  would  begin  the  next  campaign  at  once. 
Committees  were  appointed  to  obtain  the  names  of  vo- 
ters, distribute  literature  and  keep  the  matter  con- 
stantly before  the  public.  No  sooner  was  this  done 
than  telegraphic  accounts  of  it  appeared  in  the  news- 
papers, the  Herald  expressing  surprise  that  men 
should  be  so  audacious  as  to  think  of  carrying  on  pol- 
itical warfare  after  such  a  signal  defeat. 

In  spite  of  his  press  of  work,  the  Major  enlisted, 
and  became  one  of  the  most  earnest  planners  and  lib- 
eral givers  in  the  county. 

Only  a  few  days  after  the  conference,  the  Colonel 
met  him  and  stopped  for  a  "brief  chat. "  During  the 
conversation,  he  said: 

"The  course  you  are  pursuing,  Major,  will  not  only 
lose  you  a  large  share  of  your  business,  but  will  pro- 
vent  any  political  advancement.  You  can  hope  for 
nothing  from  a  party  that  commands  so  small  a  vote. 
Should  you  return  to  us,  even  though  you  have  said 
and  done  some  very  unwise  things,  they  would  soon 
be  forgotten,  and  you  would  be  in  line  for  excellent 
promotion.  While  I  have,  personally,  very  kind  feel- 
ings for  you,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  use  my  paper  and 
influence  against  you,  if  you  continue  in  your  present 
course. 

The  Major    looked    at    the    Boss    until    the    latter 


186  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

dropped  his  eyes.  Seeing  the  effect  of  his  glance 
upon  the  characterless  politician,  he  answered: 

"Sir,  I  have  no  desire  for  your  friendship,  knowing, 
as  I  do,  that  it  is  based  wholly  upon  the  considera- 
tion, whether  I  will  be  your  chattel  or  not;  and  for 
your  so-called  'influence',  I  have  only  contempt.  I 
did  not  decide  upon  my  present  course  thoughtlessly, 
or  because  of  'political  aspirations;'  so  please  inform 
all  of  your  crowd  that  I  have  entered  the  war 
with  no  expectation  of  lowering  my  banner.  I  can 
neither  be  bought  nor  frightened.  G-ood  day;"  and 
he  walked  away. 

Mrs.  Wright  had  been  steadily  recovering  till,  in 
the  crisp  days  of  early  winter,  she  was  often  seen 
driving  with  her  husband  and  the  buoyant  Elsie. 
You  would  have  searched  in  vain  for  a  happier  house- 
hold, or  one  that  more  completely  embodied  the  true 
ideal  of  an  American  home,  but  the  shadow  hung 
over  it. 

For  some  time  they  had  been  without  help  in  the 
kitchen,  but  one  morning  the  Major  announced  that 
the  vacant  place  had  been  filled,  and  they  were  to 
have  a  number  of  friends  to  dinner,  desiring  me  to  be 
one  of  them.  I  consented,  and  found  a  most  enjoya- 
ble company. 

For  dessert  an  old-fashioned  pudding  was  served, 
from  which  escaped  a  suspicious  odor;  but  knowing 
the  staunch  principles  of  my  hostess,  I  gave  it  no 
further  thought  until  I  saw  the  Major  rise  suddenly, 
excuse  himself  and  leave  the  table.  I  tasted  the  pud- 
ding and  then  knew  his  trouble.  There  was  brandy 
in  it  and  the  "old  fire"  in  my  being    was  so    aroused 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  187 

that   I  could  hardly  control  myself  and  leave  the  room 

civilly. 

I  found  him  in  the  library  pacing  the  floor  like  a 
caged  animal,  his  face  and  form  showing  how  fearful 
was  the  struggle. 

"Joseph,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  shall  I  do?  The  old 
appetite  is  nearly  consuming  me.  Must  I  fall  again? 
Do  you  feel  it?" 

Before  I  could  answer,  his  wife  tapped  at  the  door 
and  entered.  She  had  not  tasted  the  poisoned 
dish,  but  thought  it  strange  that  we  should  both 
leave  the  table  so  suddenly.  Looking  into  his  face 
she  exclaimed: 

••What  has  happened?     Are  you  sick?" 
"Wife,  there  was  brandy  in   it  and  I  am  all  on  fire. 
Excuse  me  to  the    company,   for  my  only    safety  is  in 
seclusion.     I    dare  not  go  on  the  street  to-day,"  was 
his  excited  answer. 

Just  then  Elsie  entered  the  room  and  Mrs.  Wright 
sent  her  to  ask  Pastor  Bliss,  who  was  among  the 
guests,  to  come  to  the  library.  He  did  so,  and  upon 
learning  the  situation,  made  the  necessary  excuses, 
and  we°were  soon  alone;  but  the  fires  raged  on,  cry- 
ing,   "drink,    drink." 

When  interrogated,  the  new  girl  pleaded  ignorance 
of  any  harm  in  the  pudding,  saying  her  former  mis- 
tress always  wanted  it  that  way. 

"Don't  ever  do  it  again,"  was  the  quiet  rebuke  of 
this  good  woman,    and  placing  the    cofiee-pot  on    the 

stove,  added: 

"When  this  has  boiled  well,  bring  it  to  the  library." 
Half  an  hour    later,  hot   coffee  was  brought    and  we 


188  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

drank    with    eagerness.     Scarcely  was  it  down,   when 
the  major  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaiming: 

"For  heaven's  sake,  wife,  what  does  this  mean? 
There  is  brandy  in  that  coffee.  Is  that  girl  the  tool 
of  a  plotter?" 

As  the  fiery  alcohol  reached  my  brain,  I  began  to 
laugh,  and  every  thought  of  where  I  was  or  what 
duty  called  me  to  do,  was  swept  away  by  the  sudden 
delirium. 

With  another  laugh  I  forced  the  door  open  and 
rushed  down  the  street,  conscious  of  only  one  thing, 
that  I  must  have  drink.  I  thought  not  of  Alice  or  of 
the  past  or  future.  Reason  was  a  crippled  dwarf  and 
appetite  a  mighty  giant. 

Where  I  went  I  knew  not,  but  the  first  death-trap 
received  me  with  open  arms,  only  to  furnish  more  of 
the  same  fire-water.  I  knew  nothing  of  what  followed, 
till  I  awoke  the  next  morning  in  a  cheap  hotel.  A 
man  was  watching  and  as  he  saw  I  was  conscious, 
said,  "Here  is  some  medicine  that  the  doctor  left  for 
you. "  I  poured  it  down  only  to  feel  the  pleasure  that 
strong  drink  brings.  Heeding  little  and  caring  less, 
I  drank  on,  supplied  liberally  by  the  fiend  at  my 
side,  till  the  crawling  feet  of  black  spiders  or  the 
slimy  coils  of  serpents,  began  to  creep  over  my  face 
and  around  my  neck.  I  can  remember  their  coming, 
for  their  horror  was  awful.  Then  I  rushed  from  my 
room  and  fled  along  the  street  toward  the  river, 
chased  by  the  goblins  of  hell. 

Only  a  wild  plunge  and  a  coroner's  verdict  would 
have  been  left  to  tell  the  story  had  I  not  run  against 
Mr.  Wightman.     With    a    powerful  grasp,  he    seized 


THE  LOGQEWS  STORY.  189 

me  and  called  for  help.     Wild   as   I  was,   I   can  still 
see  his  sad  but  desperate  face  as  he  held  me. 

I  was  quickly  overpowered  and  taken  home,  where 
Alice  met  us  at  the  gate.  Never  did  I  struggle  to  be 
released  as  when  I  saw  her  coming  down  the  walk. 
For  the  first  time,  in  spite  of  tremens,  my  shame, 
weakness  and  disgrace  rushed  over  me,  and  I  raved 
and  struck  furiously,  determined  to  escape  to  the 
river;  but  a  policeman's  club  felled  me,  just  as  I  saw 
her  bury  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Not  as  wild  as  myself,  the  Major  remained  a  prison- 
er in  his  library,  but  neither  his  wife  nor  Pastor 
Bliss  dared  leave  him.  When  other  help  arrived, 
she  descended  to  upbraid  the  mischief-maker,  but 
found  no  one.  The  girl  had  fled,  "bag  and  baggage," 
but  where,  no  one  ever  learned,  except  that  Mrs. 
Wright  received  a  letter  from  her,  several  weeks 
later,  post-marked  Chicago,  saying  she  had  been 
bribed  to  ruin  us. 

By  some  fiend  in  human  shape  the  poisoned  arrow 
had  been  shot,  but  by  whom,  only  suspicion  whis- 
pered. 


190  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


OLD    STORY. 

I  had  suffered  before,  but  never  had  such  torture 
racked  every  nerve,  as  during  the  succeeding  days. 
Believing  I  would  soon  be  myself,  Mr.  Wightman  em- 
ployed several  strong  men  to  watch  with  me,  com- 
pelling me  to  remain  sober,  and  an  unwilling  pris- 
oner. 

The  Herald  added  fuel  to  the  fire  by  printing  a 
garbled  account  of  the  whole  matter,  and  character- 
izing the  new  party  as  a  lot  of  sore-heads  and  sense- 
less fanatics,  led  by  men  who  could  keep  sober  only 
long  enough  to  get  unthinking  people  crazy  or  un- 
settled. Without  regard  for  truth  or  the  feelings  of 
friends,  the  editor  said  all  he  could  to  blacken  us 
and  our  cause. 

I  knew  every  word  would  go  like  a  dart  to  Alice's 
sensitive  heart,  and  my  remorse  almost  overcame  me. 
Could  I  have  felt  that  I  was  growing  stronger,  I  could 
have  borne  it;  but  every  day  I  seemed  more  wild  with 
the  burning  thirst  for  drink.  Occasionally  I 
saw  her  sad  face,  as  I  looked  from  my  chamber  win- 
dow, and  the  lines  of  sorrow  and  suffering  startled 
me.  Mr.  Wightman  tried  to  cheer  me,  but  my  only 
answer  was: 

"It's  no  use,  Mr.  Wightman;  I've  gone  too  far  al- 
ready and  am  powerless  with  such  a  consuming  fire 
within. 

Thus  the  days    wore    on     till     nearly    a    week    had 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  191 

passed.  With  nothing  to  do  I  grew  despondent  and 
desperate.  Whether  reading,  talking  or  thinking,  I 
could  not  shake  bff  that  constant  cry  for  drink.  It 
haunted  me  awake,  or  asleep,  till  I  begged  my  cap- 
tors to  give  me  just  a  little,   but  without  avail. 

At  last,  only  one  man  was  with  me,  and  the  win- 
dow stood  open.  As  the  shadows  deepened,  I  repeat- 
edly looked  out  to  see  if  I  could  jump  and  be  free. 
Watching  my  opportunity,  I  quietly  sprang  to  the 
ground;  and,  lest  I  should  be  recaptured,  hurried  to 
the  depot  just  in  time  to  jump  aboard  au  outgoing 
freight.  For  hours  I  rode  on,  battling  my  appetite 
at  every  station.  Toward  morning  I  found  we  had 
stopped  at  a  large  place,  and  began  searching  for  a 
hotel.  I  was  soon  in  a  commodious  office,  out  of 
which  opened  a  bar-room.  Before  entering,  I  had 
promised  myself  not  to  drink,  but  the  shining  glasses 
and  beer  fumes  shattered  my  resolves.  Scarcely  con- 
scious, I  asked  for  a  drink,  and  drained  one,  two, 
three  glasses,  when  the  compasionate  clerk  said: 
"You'll  soon  be  drunk;  wait  now  till  morning;"  and 
he  hurried  me  to  bed. 

From  troubled  dreams  I  awoke,  only  to  drink  again 
all  I  could  get.  From  my  first  stop,  I  drifted 
on,  always  finding  a  saloon  open  to  give  me 
more  of  the  poison.  Thus  the  days  wore  away. 
Finally  my  money  was  gone,  and  I  tried  to 
work,  but  was  too  weak  for  that.  Then  1  began 
gambling.  I  knew  I  was  good  at  cards  at  school,  but 
my  "luck"  at  various  games  was  now  greater  than  I 
had  anticipated. 

Between  drinking    and    gambling    the    weeks  grew 


192  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

into  months,  the  "black-valley  railroad"  carrying  me 
further  toward  destruction  every  day.  Several  times 
I  had  touches  of  the  tremens,  but  managed  to 
brace  up  enough  to  get  over  it,  though  scarcely 
ever  was  my  brain  sufficiently  free  from  alcohol  to  al- 
low one  thought  of  Alice  and  her  parents  or  my  own 
father  and  mother. 

I  thought  I  knew  what  the  evils  of  saloon  life 
and  gambling  were,  but  all  I  had  seen  or  read 
was  buu  a  faint  picture  of  the  blackness  I  saw 
around  me  every  day.  Robbery,  abuse,  cunning 
to  tempt  those  who  tried  to  resist,  beating, 
bruising  and  muider,  all  came  to  be  common  affairs. 
My  size  and  decided  way  was  all  that  saved  me  in 
many  a  fracas. 

After  going  through  the  slums  of  Chicago,  I  made 
my  way  to  St.  Louis.  While  in  a  saloon  there  one 
night,  a  woman  came  in  hunting  for  her  husband. 
Finding  him  drinking  at  a  gambling  table,  she  im- 
plored him  to  go  home.  Angered  by  her  presence  and 
entreaties,  he  grasped  a  heavy  glass  and  struck  her  a 
terrible  blow  on  the  forehead.  With  a  cry  of  pain 
she  fell  backward  and  was  dead  when  we  reached  her. 

The  husband  was  arrested,  and  a  half-dozen  of  us 
were  called  as  witnesses.  The  case  went  over  a  month 
for  trial,  and  as  I  could  give  no  bail  for  my  appear- 
ance, I  was  locked  up. 

Here  I  was  given  time  and  compelled  to  think  till 
remorse  rankled  deep.  In  spite  of  my  appetite  1 
was  kept  sober  by  law. 

At  the  trial  the  evidence  was  overwhelming  and 
the  guilty    husband  was  convicted    and  sentenced  to 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  198 

be  hung  in  a  week.  No  effort  was  made  to  stay 
the  stern  decree  of  the  law,  and  the  day  for  execu- 
tion arrive!. 

I  obtained  permission  of  the  sheriff  to  be  present, 
and  shall  never  forget  the  scene.  As  the  wretched 
fellow  ^tood  on  the  trap  with  the  black  cap  ready 
to  be  drawn,  he  addressed  the  crowd  in  faltering 
tones : 

"  Friends,  I  am  sober  to-day.  I  did  not  murder  my 
wife,  but  whiskey  did.  I  loved  her,  but  drink 
didn't.  I  wanted  to  spend  my  money  for  her  and 
my  two  children,  but  the  saloons  were  too  strong; 
they  robbed  me  and  gave  in  return  a  madman's 
heart.  I  had  to  pass  more  than  fifty  in  going 
to  my  work,  and  have  been  dragged  in  many  times 
and  kept  till  my  money  was  all  gone.  The  rich 
people,  politicians,  and  church  voters  have,  together, 
placed  the  saloons  on  every  street,  to  rob  workmen 
and  get  a  city  revenue.  They  are  robbing  us  and 
ours.  The  law  calls  us  murderers,  and  hangs  us, 
but  the  men  who  license  the  saloons  are  the  real 
murderers.     Our  blood  will  cry  for  vengeance. " 

Here  the  black  cap  was  drawn,  and  an  instant  later 
the  soul  of  this  victim  was  ushered  out  of  time  into 
eternity,  by  the  law  of  the  same  state  that  had  leg- 
alized the    rum-seller  for    a  share  of  his  gain. 

After  my  forced  abstinence,  I  succeeded  in  resist- 
ing till  returning  manhood  began  to  draw  me  toward 
friends.  Ragged  and  poor,  I  suddenly  started  homfe 
and  arrived  in  the  night,   disguised. 

The  next  day  I  learned  that  soon  after  my  depart 
13 


194  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 

ure,  the  Major,  in  spite  of  friends  and  his  own  de- 
termination, was  driven  to  the  saloons,  where 
no  power  could  induce  him  to  leave  till  he  was  drunk. 
Then  followed  the  old,  old  story.  Drinking  till  he 
was  brutal,  only  the  presence  of  friends  prevented 
his  venting  his  fury  upon  his  innocent  wife  and 
child.  Major  Wright  was  a  wreck,  and  though  I  be- 
lieved I  could  help  him,  I  dared  not  go  where  he 
was  nor  take  his  breath  for  a  moment. 

Determined  to  stand  till  I  could  present  myself 
to  my  friends,  a  sober,  strong  man,  I  found  work 
in  a  machine  shop. 

The  second  evening,  while  sitting  near  a  win- 
dow and  looking  out,  when  two  ladies'  passed  and 
glanced  in.  I  knew  one  the  instant  her  eyes  met 
mine,  and  sought  to  avoid  recognition  by  turning 
my  face;  but  the  electric  flash  of  friendship  was  too 
much,  and  with  a  prolonged  exclamation  of,  "O — 
Joseph— Strong  1"  she  stopped,  her  face  expressing 
surprise  and  pleasure.  A  moment  later  she  hastened 
to  the  door  and  made  her  way  directly  to  me,  ex- 
claiming with  extended  hand: 

"Joseph,   when  did  you   return?** 

I  did  not  take  her  hand  but  stood  with  folded 
arms  as  I  answered: 

"Alice,  I  am  not  worthy  your  recognition.  I  may 
be  drunk  by  to-morrow,  but  am  trying  to  straighten 
up  again.      Then  I  meant  to  see  you. " 

With  hand  still  extended,  she  answered: 

"But  I  found  you  to  help.      May  I?" 

I  shall  never  forget  that  moment,  nor  her  look, 
as  she  uttered  those  words  of    encouragement.     The 


TEE  LOGGER'S  STORY  1S5 

hungry  hours  and  heart  aches  like  torrents  breaking 
through  the  mountain  fastness  and  bearing  all  before 
them,  surged  uncontrolled.  Taking  the  offered  hand, 
ihe  meanwhile  reading  all  the  days  of  sorrow  in  her 
thin,  white  cheeks,  I  covered  my  face  with  my  other 
hand  and  for  some  time,   nothing  wassaid;  then  Alice 

spoke : 

"You're  tired  and  homesick,  trying  to  carry  your 
burdens  alone.  Father  and  mother  will  be  rejoiced 
to  see  you,  and  your  own  parents  have  come  and 
are  mourning  your  absence.     Come  with  me." 

"Not  to-day,"  I  answered;  "I  can't  go  looking  as 

I  do."  ,.    ^ 

"And  I   can't  go  unless  you    do,"   she  replied  em- 

^  Strange  powers  seemed    to  thrill  me   at    her  words 
and  touch,    and    hope  revived,  strong    and    buoyant. 
Suddenly  I  said,  meeting  her  deep,  earnest  eyes: 
"I'U  go;  lead  on,  gentle,  conquering  spirit •* 


196  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXVin. 


THE    "new    JERUSALEM-INFERNOS. 

"Getting  pretty  late,  isn't  it,  boys?"  said  High  Joe, 
leaninfT  forward  and  looking  at  his  watch.  "Guess 
we'll  have  the  rest  out  to-morrow.  Sunday  will  be  a 
good  time,  and  I  can  wind  up  before  night.  Hope  I 
am  ^"'ot  spinning  it  too  long." 

"No,  sir,  you  bet  I"  exclaimed  the  impetuous  Pat. 
"Beats  all  stories  I  iver  heerd.  Let  her  spin  all  day 
to-morrow.     Don't  yees  say  so,  Frenchy?" 

"Yes,  yes, "  answered  the  little  Parisian.  "Ze  story 
make  ze  poor,  poor  log-chopper  feel  he   eze   one  mean 

stick not   much  goode;  but  he  drinkz  no  more  wine. 

He  eze  so  glad  he  hav'  heard  ze  High  Joe  story. " 

The  words  of  commendation  were  strong  but  few, 
and  the  subdued  thoughtfulness  of  the  men,  as  they 
parted  for  the  night,  told  how  new  and  deep  were 
the  feelings  awakened. 

"Good-night,  Joe,"  said  the  Colonel  reacbing  out 
his  hand  to  the  brawny  chopper  as  he  started  for  bis 
bunk;  and  as  he  pressed  the  heavy  palm,  he  added: 
"Your  story  will  do  us  all  good.  I  never  thought  of 
these  things  as  I  see  them  to-night,  and  I'm  sure  the 
men  haven't.  Strange  what  selfish,  thoughtless  beings 
we  are;  but  Carson's  camp  is  getting  a  lesson. 
Good  night." 

Refreshed  by  a  healthy  sleep  such  as  hard  work 
brings,  the  men  arose,  Sabbath  morning,  later  than 
usual;  and,   after  breakfast  was  cleared  away  and  the 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  ^ 

horses  and   oxen  were  well  cared  for,  High  Joe   con- 
tinned  his  story  to  a  room  full  of  eager  listerners: 

With  a  tact  all  her  own,  Alice  slipped  me  into  the 
house  unobserved,  leaving  me  at  the  door  of  my  old 
room,  with  the  remark : 

"You'll  find  everything  as  you  left  it,  Joseph. 
Father  and  mother  will  want  to  see  you  soon." 

Understanding  the  delicate  hint  to  improve  my 
looks,  I  began  the  work  with  hope  such  as  I  had  not 
known  for  a  year.  There  were  some  changes  in  the 
room  On  the  wall  hung  a  picture  of  Alice  that  1 
had  never  seen  before,  in  which  she  appeared  as 
when  I  first  met  her  on  my  arrival  at  G. 

"How  she  has  changed!"  I  murmured,  the  vision 
of  a  noble  woman  as  she  left  me  a  few  moments 
before,   contrasting   with   the   beautiful,    girlish  face 

before  me. 

In  other  parts  of  the  room,  hung  my  parents'  pic- 
tures. They,  too,  showed  change,  in  deeper  lines  of 
care  and  sorrow,  and  whitening  locks.  My  mother's 
eye  had  still  the  searching  look  that  said,  almost  aud- 

ibly: 

"Joseph,  is  it  all  well?" 

Opening  a  writing  desk,  I  found  my  old  diary,  In 
which  I  had  written,  more  than  a  year  before,  these 
deceitful  words: 

"To-day  closes  my  first  political  campaign.  I  have 
enjoyed  it  very  much.  Not  only  do  I  feel  stronger 
than  ever,  but  I  believe  I  have  helped  others  and 
opened  the  way  to  purer  political  action  in  the  fut- 
ure.  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  troubled  with  my 
old  appetite  again. " 


198  '        HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

I  turned  and  looked  in  the  mirror.  *Twas  not  a 
pleasant  picture.  Eyes,  cheeks  and  every  feature 
told  the  sad  story  of  a  year  of  slavery  to  appetite, 
and  I  exclaimed  aloud: 

"O,   destroyer;  thou  hast  conquered  again!" 

Taking  up  a  pen,  I  sought  to  write  those  words  be- 
low my  former  exultation,  but  my  hand  trembled  so 
I  hesitated.  Summoning  my  will-power,  I  grasped 
my  pen  anew,  and,  in  unsteady  lines,  recorded  my 
confession.  Writing  before  it  the  date,  I  contrasted 
the  two  sentences,  and  with  a  shudder,  muttered: 

"Conquered;  yes,  shamefully  conquered  1  Can  I 
ever  write  that  free,  strong  hand  again?" 

My  hopes  had  fallen  like  the  summer  breeze  before  the 
wintry  blizzard.  Just  then  I  heard  a  tap  on  my  door, 
and  as  I  said  "come  in,"  it  opened,  revealing  my 
queen.  Never  had  she  seemed  so  lovely  as  there  she 
stood  with  a  questioning  look,  the  crimson  rose  at 
her  throat  contrasting  with  the  whiteness  of  cheek 
and  brow.  As  she  saw  I  was  unprepared,  she  ex- 
claimed half  playfully : 

"You  disobedient  boy!     Why  aren't  you  ready?" 

"I  will  tell  you,  if  you  come  here,"  I  answered, 
pointing  to  my  diary. 

She  walked  across  the  room,  and  after  reading, 
grasped  the  book,  exclaming: 

"It  shan't  trouble  you  any  more.  I'll  take  care  of 
It  and  be  up  again  in  a  short  time.  You  shall  yet 
write  words  of  victory." 

As  she  passed  through  the  door,  she  cast  back  a 
smile  of  confidence  and  hope,  but  underneath  I  detect- 
ed a   shower  of  tears  that  yet  would  fall  unseen,  un- 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  199 

known  to  others,  as  oft  they  must  have  fallen  to  wash 
that  brow,  those  cheeks  so  white. 

**  'Tis  all  for  me, "  I  whispered,  as  I  heard  her  foot- 
steps on  the  stairs.  "I  yet  shall  crown  her  life  with 
joy  and  full  fruition,  or  plant  that  lovely  face  and 
form  beneath  the  drifting   snows  or  summer  flowers. 

0  God,  who  gives  her  comfort  and  courage,  which 
shall  it  be?  I  fain  would  live  a  man,  but  Rum  says 
*No,  thou  art  my  slave.  March  on  in  shame  to 
death.'" 

Overcome  by  these  thoughts,  I  threw  myself  into  an 
easy  chair  and  closed  my  eyes ;  but  the  trickling  tears 
would  not  be  barred,  and  silently  they  chased  each 
other  o'er  my  sunken  cheeks.  Suddenly  I  heard  a 
church-bell,  and  its  call  to  prayers  aroused  the  bitter 
memories  of  the  past. 

"Prayers I"  I  muttered;  "what  will  they  pray  for — 
they  who  have  helped  to  legalize  the  death-traps  that 
make  me  tremble  day  and  night,  as  I  walk  their 
streets ;  they  who  may  yet  consign  me  to  a  drunkard's 
grave,  and  then  toll  the  funeral  requiem  for  her 
whose  heart  they've  broken?" 

Angry  and  rebellious  at  such  worshippers,  I  arose, 
nerved  for  desperate  exertion,  and  began  making 
myself  presentable. 

An  hour  later  I  was  greeted  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wightman,  but  words    cannot  describe  my  feeling  as 

1  knew  they  read  the  story  of  my  year  of  shame. 
The  words  and  smile  of  Alice  compelled  hope  and 
courage  that  took  from  the  future  much  of  its  darkness 
and  uncertainty,  but  I  was  glad  when  the  thoughtful 
parents  left  us  to  ourselves. 


200  HIGH  JOE:  OR, 

No  sooner  were  they  gone,  than  pleasantry  gave 
way  to  confidence  and  serious  thought.  When  I  had 
told  her  how  I  learned  to  drink  and  that  it  seemed 
beyond  my  power  now  to  resist,  she  read  my  hope- 
lessness with  true  womanly  intuition,  while  tears 
gistened  on  her  long  lashes.  Her  words,  however? 
lifted  me  out  of  my  despondency  and  doubt.  To  my 
misgivings  she  said: 

"I  have  a  sure  remedy,  Joseph;  it  never  fails.  I 
told  you  of  it  when  I  knew  not  how  much  you  needed 
it.  To-night  I  would  sing  into  your  heart,  the  only 
song  that  has  been  on  my  lips  during  your  absence: 

*For  the  Lion  of  Judah 

'Shall  break  every  chain, 
*And  give  us  the  vict'ry, 

•Again  and  again. ' 

"Can't  you  let  Him  break  your  chains,  Joseph? 
He's  able  and  willing." 

I  shook  my  head  doubtfully  and  said: 

"I  would,  but  somehow  I  can't,  Alice.  I  feel  like  a 
caged  man  or  a  chained  slave,  not  even  able  to  will  to 
be  free." 

I  will  not  stop  to  tell  you  of  the  sweet  but  solemn 
hours  we  spent  in  communion  that  evening.  It 
seemed  as  though  that  Christian  girl  could  not  let  me 
go  until  I  felt  the  power  and  peace  that  I  knew  made 
her  one  of  God's  ministering  angels;  but  I  had  strayed 
too  far  as  a  prodigal,  to  get  back  without  a  struggle. 

At  last  we  parted;  and  as  I  said  "Good  night,"  the 
solemn  stillness  of  the  midnight  hour  told  not  ..ow 
weak  I  was,  nor  how  I  hungered  for  the  rest,  strength 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  2(tt 

and  peace,  that  He,  of  whom  she  talked  so  trustfully, 
could  bring. 

It  was  late  when  I  awoke  the  next  morning,  but  my 
first  consciousness  was  a  sick  and  dismal  feeling,  bom 
of  the  rankling  thirst  for  drink.  A  good  meal  and 
the  cheery  words  of  my  friends  brought  hope  and 
courage,  and  I  went  out  with  Mr.  Wightman. 

I  dreaded  to  meet  my  parents,  but  as  he  offered  to 
show  me  where  they  lived,  I  followed,  mustering 
courage  for  the  supposed  ordeal.  I  found  them  both 
changed,  and  in  the  tenderness  with  which  they 
greeted  me,  quite  unlike  the  father  and  mother 
of  former  days.  During  the  whole  forenoon  we  visit- 
ed and  I  learned  that  my  father,  just  before  he  heard 
of  my  disappearance,  had  lost  much  of  his  property 
in  speculation.  This,  with  the  sad  news  concerning 
me,  broke  his  health,  and  he  sold  out  and  moved  west. 
Sorrow  and  the  constant  wish  and  prayer  for  my  re- 
turn had  drawn  them  together  as  never  before,  and 
developed  the  Christian  spirit  that  had  been  choked 
by  car^s  and  business  while  T  was  a  boy. 

"Never,"  I  thought,  as  we  talked  and  lived  over 
the  past,  "were  they  so  lovable.  'The  Lion  of  Judah' 
must  have  broken  their  chains. " 

After  a  hearty  dinner  I  went  out,  feeling  happy  in 
my  new  found  prize — a  truly  Christian  father  and 
mother,  that  almost  brought  me  to  the  "rock  for  shel- 
ter. "  I  had  not  gone  far,  when  I  caught  sight  of  Major 
Wright  shuffling  along  the  street  some  distance  ahead. 
Quickening  my  pace,  I  was  soon  at  his  side,  and  tap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder,  said: 

"Hello!  Major;  where  are  you  going?" 


202  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Stopping  and  looking  at  me  sharply,  he  exclaimed: 

"Hello,  old  boyl  this  you?  By  George,  Joseph,  I 
thought  they'd  planted  you  'fore  this  time.  G-lad  to 
see  ye,  if  yer  nose  is  red.  Tryin'  to  let  up  a  little; 
hey,  Joseph?" 

"Yes,  I've  had  a  hard  fight,  Major,"  I  answered, 
taking  his  arm.  "I  don't  know  how  it'll  come  out, 
yet,  but  I  hope  to  win.  Aren't  you  going  to  try 
again?" 

"No  use,  Joseph;  no  use.  I'm  hell  bound,  sure's 
we're  trampin'  'long  here  now.  Can't  stop,  can't 
stop.  They'll  soon  plant  old  Wright,  and  then  some 
young  fellow  '11  have  to  go  to  drinkin'  to  take  my 
place.  Hope  you'll  stan',  Joe,  but  I  guess  we're  both 
pretty  near  salted.  This  is  a  h — 1  of  a  Christian 
country,  old  boy,  and  the  cities  sort  of  New  Jerusa- 
lem-inferno combinations.  Meetin'  houses  outside  and 
saloons  and  dives  inside.  Little  prayin'  and  singin* 
heavens  around  the  edge,  and  a  regular  roarin'  old 
pit  of  fire  and  brimstone  inside.  Ohl  I  tell  ye,  some- 
body's kingdom's  comin'  pretty  fast.  Ten  churches 
and  one  hundred  saloons  tell  whose.  My!  wouldn't 
there  be  a  scramble  if  G-abriel  should  blow  his  trump 
suddenly.  Wouldn't  be  more'n  a  corporal's  guard 
that  wouldn't  go  sneakin'  for  the  rocks  and  the  moun- 
tains to  fall  on  'm.  Even  a  Methodist  prayer  meetin' 
would  be  spoiled  by  the  stampede.  Gracious,  I'm 
awful  thirsty.  Won't  you  come  in  and No,  Jo- 
seph; I  don't  want  to  start  you.  Go  on,  and  God  save 
you  yet  for  Alice  Wightman  and  a  good  home;"  and 
he  pushed  me  from  him  as  he  started  to  enter  a  saloon. 

I  held  him  and  said,  as  he  struggled  to  be  free: 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  208 

"No,  Major;  I  must  help  save  you.  We  can  yet  be 
men  in  spite  of  the  'Boss'  who  hopes  to  see  us  die 
<3runkards.  Come  with  me  and  make  that  wife  happy 
again. " 

I  was  not  prepared  for  what  followed.  Turning  on 
me  like  a  madman,  he  struck  such  a  blow  as  to  send 
me  staggering,  almost  unconscious  into  the  gutter. 
Everything  grew  dark  for  a  moment,  and  then  my  head 
seemed  whirling.  Scarcely  knowing  what  I  did,  I  at- 
tempted to  rise,  and  felt  some  one  grasp  my  arms  and 
raise  me  to  a  sitting  posture.  Just  conscious  enough 
to  open  my  eyes,  I  saw  a  man  standing  before  me  with 
a  glass  of  brandy.  Stepping  forward,  he  tried  to  place 
it  to  my  lips,  but  I  struck  it  so  forcibly  as  to  dash  it 
upon  the  stone  curbing.  Then  struggling  to  my  feet,  I 
rushed  to  the  saloon  door,  hoping  to  save  the  Major; 
but  I  was  too  late.  The  second  glass  was  already 
drained. 

Fearing,  however,  that  I  might  release  his  victim, 
the  bartender  sprang  at  the  door,  and,  striking  it  be- 
fore I  could  back  out,  slammed  it  so  heavily  against  my 
head  as  to  nearly  crush  it  against  the  edge  of  the  other 
door.  "With  a  groan  I  staggered  away;  and,  as  the 
darkness  of  a  reelinor  brain  caused  me  to  stumble  and 
fall,  I  felt  strong  hands  grasp  me,  but  knew  no  more. 


2M  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


NO    PEAYIX     DAN  L. 

The  next  I  knew,  I  was  lying  in  the  old  room  at 
Mr.  Wightman's.  In  a  chair  near  by,  sat  Alice, 
whose  sober  face  I  had  a  chance  to  study  for  some 
time  before  she  knew  I  was  conscious. 

The  telegraphic  news  from  my  eyes,  however,  soon 
stirred  the  sympathetic  watcher,  and  she  glanced  up. 
On  seeing  my  steady  gaze,  she  stepped  forward,  ex- 
claiming: 

"Joseph,  are  you  awake?" 

"I'm  something,"  I  answered,  smiling,  "but  I'd  like 
to  know  how  long  I've  been  here.  The  last  thing 
I  remember  was  the  slam  of  that  saloon  door.  I  won- 
der if  the  Major  is  there  yet?" 

"You  haven't  been  here  long,"  was  her  answer, 
drawing  her  chair  nearer.  "  Tell  me  about  it.  No- 
body  seems  to  know  how  it  happened. " 

I  explained  briefly,  and  she  said,  much  relieved: 

"Then  you  hadn't  beeo  drinking,  as  the  bar-tender 
claims?  He  says  he  had  to  put  you  out,  and  you  hit 
your  head  on  the  door  in  the  scuffle. " 

"I  hadn't  been  in  his  saloon  or  drank  a  drop,"  I 
exclaimed,  sitting  up  with  a  feeling  that  I'd  make 
it  warm  for  him;  but  Alice  continued: 

"Never  mind,  I'm  so  glad  to  know  it.     I  was  afraid 

Without  finishing  her    sentence,  she  walked  toward 


TEE  LOGGERS  SOTRY.  205 

the  window,  and  I  knew  she  was  trying  to  hide 
tears. 

It  was  nearly  a  week  before  I  went  down  town, 
so  badly  was  my  head  injured;  but  I  learned  that 
the  Major,  in  the  meantime,  had  been  on  a  steady 
drunk. 

"I'm  afraid  he's  past  all  help,"  Mr.  Wightman  re- 
marked one  evening,  as  he  told  me  what  he  had  seen. 
"It  won't  be  long  before  he  has  the  tremens,  if  he 
keeps  on." 

That  evening  I  walked  with  Alice  to  the  prayer- 
meeting,  and  on  our  return  saw  the  Major  shuffling 
along  some  distance  ahead.  Suddenly,  when  passing 
a  church,  he  entered,  and  curiosity  and  interest 
caused  us  to  follow.  He  took  a  seat  well  toward  the 
front,  and  we  decided  to  wait  and  escort  him  home. 

One  of  the  elders  was  making  a  long,  tedious  pray- 
er in  which  he  tried  to  tell  the  good  Lord  the  news 
from  all  over  His  wide  universe  since  their  last  meet- 
ing. Suddenly  we  were  startled  by  a  loud  groan,  and 
saw  half  a  dozen  heads  turn  toward  the  poor  inebriate. 
A  few  moments  later,  another  groan  went  rolling 
over  the  almost  vacant  pews.  Nothing  daunted,  how- 
ever, the  determined  elder  pursued  his  journey,  and 
in  time  reached  his  own  land.  Here  he  prayed  for 
its  rulers,  its  many  people,  its  government,  national, 
state  and  city,  its  schools  and  churches,  and  closed 
by  a  word  for  the  drunkard : 

"O,  God,  grant  that  the  men  of  this  nation  may  be 
temperate  and  strong  to  resist  the  wine-cup  (another 
groan  startled  all).  Grant  that  they  may  stay  away 
from  the  saloons  that    lure    them    in  (another  groan). 


206  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

Rescue  those  that  have  become  drunkards,  by  break, 
ing  their  chains  (another  groan,  the  Major  at  the 
same  time  half  rising  in  his  seat).  Help  every  man 
to  pass  the  saloon  doors,  without  going  in  to  mar  Thine 
image" 

Just  then  then  the  Major  gave  an  unearthly  groan, 
and  leaning  over  the  end  of  his  pew,  nature  made  a 
desperate  effort  to  relieve  him  of  the  high-license  bev- 
erages he  had  taken.  The  elder's  prayer  closed  without 
any  "amen,"  and  with  the  pastor  and  several  other 
good  brothers,  he  hastened  to  the  groaner.  Several 
placed  strong  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  tried  to  as- 
sist him  to  his  feet,  but  he  seemed  in  no  mood  to 
move.  Straightening  himself  against  the  front  pew 
and  clasping  firmly  the  one  in  which  he  sat,  he  looked 
up  at  them  and  mumbled : 

"Sno  use  g — gen — gen'lemen ;  it's  got'ter  come.  I'm 
a — a — awful  sick;  g — gue — guess  I'll  die;"  and  before 
any  one  realized  it,  the  battery  delivered  a  broadside. 
"Bla — med  if  I  th — tho — thought  I'd  drank  so  much, " 
he  continued,  coolly  surveying  the  surprised  men  who 
had  backed  off.  Then  rising,  he  started  toward  the 
altar.  Several  made  a  move  to  stop  him,  but  he 
"struck  out  from  the  shoulder"  so  vigorously  that 
they  gave  him  a  free  right  of  way.  On  reaching  the 
rostrum  he  turned  around  and  looked  calmly  over 
the  room,  steadying  himself  with  the  Sunday  school 
superindent's  chair,  as  he  stammered  out: 

"Cussed  sma — small  crowd.  Cou — could — couldn't 
St — st — storm  the  de — dev — devil's  picket  lines.  " 

Then  seeming  to  grow  more  sober,  he  went  on  ser-^ 
iously; 


^'HE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  207 

"I'm  an  awful  sin — sinner,  going  str — straight  to 
hell  through  the  gro — grog — shops.  I  ca — can't  quit 
even  if  my  boots  ge — get  fu — full  of  snakes.  'Sno 
use  f — for  me — me  to  try,  so  I  thought  I'd  co — come 
in  an'  see  if  you  cou — couldn't  pray  for  me." 

Stopping  long  enough  to  put  on  his  glasses  and  sur- 
vey those  present,  he  continued: 

"  'Sno  use — 'sno  use;  there's  n — no  prayin'  Dan — 
Dan'l  here.  The  minister  preaches  an' — votes  for 
licensin'  grog-shops.  Elder  Briggs  do — does  too  an' 
goes  to  hor — horse  races,  th — eaters,  euchre  parties 
and  church  dan — dances.  So  does  Elder  White  and — 
and — and  every  one  of  'em.  An'  the  women  do, 
too,  only  they  ca — ca — can't  vote.  Oh,  my!  'sno 
use — 'sno  use;"  and  putting  on  his  hat,  he  marched 
down  the  further  aisle  and  out  without  another 
word. 

I  met  him  in  the  vestibule,  but  he  pushed  me  away 
roughly,  muttering,    "  'S — no  use — 's — no  use. " 

Shuffling  down  the  steps,  he  made  his  way  straight 
to  a  saloon,  a  few  blocks  distant.  We  followed,  leav- 
ing about  as  confused  and  foolish  a-looking  com- 
pany as  I  ever  saw.  Some  faces  were  sober,  some 
perplexed,  others  angry,  and  all  surprised. 

Reaching  home,  sad  and  serious  at  the  terrible 
rebuke  administered  to  that  group  of  worshipers  by 
the  slave  of  appetite,  Alice  went  directly  to  her  room. 
Sitting  down,  myself,  on  the  broad  porch  near  Mr. 
Wightman,  he  remarked: 

We  thought  you  and  Alice  must  have  got  lost  com- 
ing home. " 

"No,"  I  answered;   "we   stopped   to  see   a  strange 


203  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

sight  at  Immanuers  church;  "and  then  I  related  all. 
As  I  closed,  he  was  silent,  and  I  finally  said: 

"I'm  going  to  find  the  Major,  if  possible.  Don't 
sit  up  for  me. " 

"All  right,"  he  answered,  "but  take  good  care  of 
Joseph.  '• 

Walking  along  rapidly,  S'^me  moments  later,  I  sa-w 
a  girl  enter  a  saloon :  but  before  I  reached  it,  she  was 
rudely  thrust  out,  crying  piteously.  I  knew  her,  in- 
stantly, and  asked: 

"What  is  the  matter,  Elsie?" 

"O,  Joseph!"  she  sobbed,  "father  is  in  there  and 
they  won't  let  me  go  to  him.  Mamma  is  sick  and 
wants  him.      Can't  you  help  me?" 

"I  can  and  will, "  I  answered,  taking  her  by  the 
hand.      "Come  with  me." 

We  entered,  and  the  bar-tender  scowled  ominous- 
ly; then  as  we  made  our  way  through,  he  shouted: 
"Who  are  you  after?"  and  started  toward  us. 

"I'll  show  you  in  about  two  minutes, "  I  replied, 
seizing  a  heavy  billiard  cue.  "You  may  put  out  a 
helpless  child  but  you  can't  put  me  out.  Just  keep 
your  distance. " 

He  did,  and  we  entered  the  gambling  room,  and 
found  a  number  of  men  busily  playing  cards,  betting 
and  drinking.  Toward  the  back,  with  others,  sat  the 
Major  at  a  table  on  which  was  a  server  loaded  with 
glasses  and  several  bottles  of  "Old  Taylor." 

"Help  yourselves,  pards,  help  yourselves,"  ex- 
claimed an  "old  soak",  filling  the  glasses.  "Not  many 
snakes  in  that  but  they're  mighty  big  ones.  My,  how 
they  strangle   a    fellow  1     I've    had    'era    twice  and  1 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  f>r^ 

know.      Come  Major,    why    don't    you    drink?     Brace 
up,  old  boy,  for  'we  shan't  go  home  till  mornin'," 

There  was  a  wild  look  in  the  Major's  eyes  as  we 
approached,  and  he  gave  no  heed  to  his  companion's 
rjmarks.  At  the  sound  of  Elsie's  voice  he  started, 
and  much  of  his  alarmed  look  passed  away. 

"Come  father,  come  home,"  pleaded  the  sweet 
roice  of  his  "idol."  "Mother  is  sick  and  wants  you. 
Won't  you  come?" 

"Yes,  my  little  pet,  I'll  go,"  he  said  vacantly,  try- 
ing to  rise.      "Help  me  up.  " 

The  child  steadied  him  to  his  feet  and  took  his 
tremoling  hand  in  hers.  I  had  heard  that  never  since 
the  day  when  he  came  so  near  murdering  his  wife 
and  daughter,  had  he  said  or  done  a  harsh  or  unkind 
thing  to  the  golden -haired  child.  She  could  lead  him 
home  when  no  one  else  could  stir  him;  hence  I  step- 
ped back,  and  the  shrinking  girl  guided  him  out  of 
that  purgatory,  up  the  street  to  his  mansion  home. 
I  followed  closely  and  entered  a  few  steps  be- 
hind. 

"Joseph  is  in  the  hall,"  I  heard  the  child  whisper 
to  her  mother;  and  the  sad -faced  woman  met  me  a 
moment  later. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you, "  she  said  as  I  took  her 
thin  hand.  It  was  so  hot  that  I  looked  anxiously 
mto  her  face,  only  to  see  the  hectic  flush,  that  told 
w'hat  strides  another  destroyer  was  making. 

"Grod  bless  you  in    your    efforts  I"    she    exclaimed, 
ets  I  told  of  my  struggle;  and  hastily  excused  herself 
14 


210  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

to  go  and  care  for  the  man  who,  reduced  by  legalized 
robbers  from  being  her  sworn  protector,  was  now  as 
helpless  as  a  babe  and  as  vile  as  a  brute. 

"How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  when  a  sensitive 
woman  is  compelled  to  put  to  bed  such  a  man  1"  I 
exclaimed  when  alone. 

I  had  scarcely  finished  my  sentence,  when  I  heard  a 
scream  from  Elsie,  and  rushed  through  the  dining- 
room  in  time  to  see  the  dripping  form  of  Mrs. 
Wright  retreat  from  her  threatening  husband. 
Crazed  with  drink,  had  seized  a  pail  of  cold  water  and 
dashed  it  into  her  face,  completely  drenching  her. 
It  is  impossible  to  say  what  more  he  would  have  done, 
had  not  Elsie  grasped  and  held  him  firmly.  Her  magic 
touch  dispelled  the  fury,  and  he  said,  as  though 
greatly  relieved: 

"There,  they've  gone;  they've  gone.  Elsie,  they're 
afraid  of  you.     How  strange!" 

A  sister  of  Mrs.  Wright  hurried  down  and  assisted 
her  to  bed,  but  not  till  the  fragile  woman  was  shak- 
ing with  the  shock  and  cold. 

I  remained,  fearful  that  the  madman's  fury  would 
be  too  mach  even  for  the  faithful  child  to  quell.  All 
night  long  he  raved,  and  all  night  long  the  frail 
watcher  sat  by  his  bedside,  holding  his  hand 
or  entwining  her  arms  around  his  neck  to  dispel  the 
strangling  goblins. 

"  Oh, "  said  I,  watching  the  weary  eyes  and  droop- 
ing form,  "how  I  wish  every  man  who  helps  to 
license  the  forging  of  such  awful  chains  was  com- 
pelled  to  endure  the  torture  of  that  innocent  girl, 
one  nicrht      The  damnable  cobwebs   of   argument  and 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY,  211 

excuse  that  he  has    woven,  would    be    brushed    aside 
forever. " 

I  sent,  promptly,  for  Alice,  and  through  the  quiet 
hours,  her  noiseless  step  glided  in  and  out,  minister- 
ing to  the  stricken  wife. 

"It's  only  a  question  of  time, "  said  Doctor  Bronson. 
"She  can't  last  long.  The  shock  has  only  fanned  the 
consuming  flame  that  was  slowly  burning  her  life  out.. 
Poor  woman,  the  altar  of  Bacchus  will  soon  claim  her- 
as  another  victim. " 


212  HIGH  JOE:  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


THE  SIROCCO  S  BLAST. 

The  Major  finally  dropped  into  a  troubled  sleep, 
and  the  loyal  watcher,  with  her  childish  affection, 
nestled  close  to  him.  I  watched  them  till  another  da-y 
dawned,  and  then  gave  place  to  Mr.  Wightman. 
Toward  noon  the  Major  awakened,  his  mind  almost  a 
blank.  As  he  discovered  who  was  there,  he  asked  the 
cause,  and  with  little  regard  for  his  feelings,  the  mer- 
chant told  what  he  had  done,  charging  him  with  hav- 
ing slain  his  truest  friend.  Though  steeped  in  the 
drink  that  had  burned  away  his  will  and  conscience, 
the  poor  fellow  broke  down  and  wept  like  a  child. 

Going  to  her  oed-side,  he  knelt  and  prayed  foi 
forgiveness,  declaring  before  God  that  if  she  would 
live  he  never  would  drink  again. 

"O,  Tom!"  came  the  feeble  answer,  "I  fear  'tis  too 
late.  T  love  you  and  our  sweet  Elsie,  and  wanted  to 
live  for  both,  but  I'm  so  weak,  so  weak,  that  I  can't 
itay.  No,  Tom,  we  can't  be  together  long;  but  when 
I'm  gone  you  can  be  a  strong  man  again  and  take 
oare  of  Elsie." 

"I  will,  I  will,"  were  his  only  words  as  he  buried 
his  face  in  her  pillow. 

By  the  help  of  friends  and  a  desperation  bordering 
on  despair,  the  Major  touched  no  liquor  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  though  at  times  he  walked  the  floor  mut- 
tering, "I  wou't,  I  won't,  if  it  kills  me;"  but  the 
flame  within  grew    hotter,    the    awful    cry    for  drink 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  213 

became  a  tempest  that  drowned  all  other  voices,  and, 
in  the  dusk  of  evening,  the  chained  slave  crept  out 
like  an  escaping  convict.  In  spite  of  loving  child, 
dying  wife,  and  his  sacred  promise,  he  fled  along  the 
highway  of  this  "free  land,"  straight  for  the  nearest 
legalized  trap  of  death.  Then,  as  he  entered  and 
stood  trembling  before  the  bloody  bar,  madness  glar- 
ing from  his  eyes,  the  agent  of  the  sovereign  common- 
wealth turned  from  a  black  bottle  the  very  fire  of 
hell's  hottest  inferno,  and  handed  it  to  him;  and,  as 
he  drank  glass  after  glass  till  the  scorching  liquid 
went  tingling  to  his  farthest  nerve,  burning  away 
the  last  barrier,  I  can  imagine  how  all  the  hosts  of 
darkness  made  merry,  while  the  prince  wrote  in  his 
black-book  in  words  of  fire,   "  Lost,  eternally  lost. " 

The  grieving  child  waited  in  vain  for  the  coming 
of  the  father,  while  the  hectic  flush  on  the  mother's 
cheek  burned  deeper  and  faster  as  the  last  hope  was 
so  cruelly  dashed  to  earth. 

At  last  the  end  came  and  the  lingering  spirit  of  the 
loving  wife  called  for  her  "Tom"  of  other  days. 
Friends  hurried  away  to  bring  him,  if  possible,  to  the 
departing  one;  but  the  welded  bands  of  drink  were  too 
strong.  With  maudlin  oaths  and  curses,  he  drove 
them  from  him,  only  to  pour  down  more  of  the  blight- 
ing liquid;  and  to  the  pleading  voice  of  his  child  he 
turned  a  deaf  ear. 

An  hour  passed.  The  broken  fancies  of  the  sufferer 
once  again  took  shape,  and  Evangeline  Wright  clasped 
to  her  breast  in  one  last,  loving  embrace,  her  once 
sunny-faced,  golden  haired  Elsie;  and  as  she  smoothed 


214  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

away  the  curls  and  caressed  the  childish  form,  she 
plead  with  those  about  her  to  call  "Tom." 

"  Tell  him, "  she  cried,  as  though  to  die  without  his 
presence  were  impossible,  "that  I  must  say  one  last 
farewell  and  feel  once  more  the  grasp  of  his  hand.  I 
would  not  fear  to  go  down  into  the  dark  waters  could  I 
pillow  my  head  on  his  strong  arm.  Oh,  I  must  see 
him,  I  must  see  him!  Kind  friends,  do  find  him.  I 
know  he  would  come  if  he  knew  I  wanted  him. " 

Then  the  bright  eyes  wandered,  the  pleading  voice 
ceased,  but  the  tender  embrace  of  the  mother  arm  re- 
laxed not.  Placed  on  the  sweet  child's  forehead,  lov- 
ingly, caressingly,  the  thin  hand  rested  for  awhile,  and 
then  she  spread  her  hands  aloft,  with  a  joyful  cry  of, 
"Tom,  O  Tom!"  Suddenly  the  hands  dropped,  a 
shudder  stirred  her  whole  frame,  a  look  of  horror 
distorted  every  feature,  and  she  cried  in  disgust: 

"That  hideous  thing  is  not  Tom;  why  did  you 
bring  him  here?     Tom  was  strong  and  grand. " 

Then  as  she  felt  the  sunny  head,  she  turned  with 
one  more  loving  caress ;  and,  with  a  kiss  upon  the 
childish  lips,  sank  back,  murmuring  gently,  while 
a  smile  played  o'er  her  thin  face: 

"My  sunny  Elsie  and  brave   Tom,  good  night,  

good by " 

Loving  friends  closed  the  parted  lips  and  folded 
the  thin,  white  hands,  for  the  "silver  cord"  was 
loosed  and  the  "golden  bowl"  was  broken.  Then  they 
led  away  the  comortless  child,  robbed  of  father  and 
mother,  home  and  happiness,  by  leave  and  sanction 
of  men  who  called  themselves  brave,  patriotic  and 
free. 


THE  LOGGER'S  STOlif.  215 

At  the  tuneral  these  thoughtless  men  and  their 
wives  shed  tears,  not  realizing  how  much  they  had 
to  do  with  the  "slaughter  of  the  innocents;"  and,  fol- 
lowed by  one  "mourner" — the  weeping  child — they 
bore  to  the  grave  all  that  Rum  had  left  of  another 
victim.  No  indignation  was  stirred,  no  thought  of 
self-condemnation  troubled  the  respectable  church- 
goers, and  no  word  of  the  preacher  pierced  the 
selfish  armor  of  ease  and  indifference. 

While  the  clods  were  heaped  above  the  silent 
coffin,  the  ruined  Major  was  drowning  every  thought 
of  wife,  child  and  manhood  in  the  gambling  room  of 
the  new  "Palace,"  just  fitted  up  richer  and  more 
attractive  than  the  old. 

Although,  on  the  flood  of  time,  the  fragments  of 
another  wrecked  and  blasted  home  went  floating  out 
into  eternity,  neither  the  city,  the  state  nor  the 
nation  was  startled  at  the  ruin,  and  in  the  archives 
of  none  was  the  record  entered.  Before  men's  eyes, 
the  curtain  of  oblivion  dropped,  and  few  saw  across 
the  heavens  a  blood-red  banner  on  which  burned  the 
words,   "Destruction,  Pestilence  and  War.'* 

Those  were  sober  days  for  me.  I  saw  what  I 
might  yet  do,  were  a  loving  woman  to  give  her  life 
into  my  keeping;  and  I  resolved  anew  never  to  drink 
again. 

The  wretched  Major  at  last  shuffled  back  into  his 
home.  The  terrible  truth  forced  itself  upon  him, 
and  a  lingering  spark  of  love  was  stirred  by  remorse. 
Slightly  sobered,  he  arranged  still  to  keep  his  house- 
hold nmnmg,  insisting  that  Elsie  should  be  with 
him.     As  it  comforted   her    somewhat,    little  remon* 


•::g  high  joe;  or, 

strance  was  offered  by  friends,  and  she  became  his 
only  tie  to  a  better  life. 

With  his  consent  I  opened  the  old  office  and  began 
gathering  what  I  could  of  his  scattered  business,  at 
the  same  time  carrying  on  my  law  studies.  I  knew  I 
was  a  "marked  man,"  and  that,  if  possible,  my  ruin 
would  yet  be  compassed. 

Winter  came  and  I  labored  unceasingly,  carrying 
my  studies  into  the  small  hours  of  the  night.  Slowly 
I  came  to  feel  confidence  in  myself,  but  was  never 
quite  free  from  the  old  appetite;  Alice  regained 
health  and  hopefulness,  and  my  parents  were  happy. 
At  the  spring  term  of  Court  I  passed  an  examination 
that  was  highly  commended  by  all  who  heard  it,  and 
was  admitted  to  practice  law. 

The  evening  of  my  admission  was  spent  with  Alice, 
and  our  common  hopefulness  at  my  prospects,  to- 
gether with  her  undisguised  interest,  emboldened  me 
to  say  what  my  heart  had  prompted  for  months. 
Boys,  I  cannot  tell  my  happiness  when  I  realized  that 
the  love  of  so  pure  and  noble  a  girl  was  mine^  but 
when  I  asked  her  to  name  the  day  that  should  make 
us  one,  the  rich  color  fled  from  her  face  and,  as 
though  almost  ready  to  faint,  she  whispered:  "Don't 
ask  me  to-night,  Joseph;  some  other  time  we'll  plan 
that,  but  not  now;"  and  her  eyes  had  a  sad,  far-away 
look,  while  her  lips  quivered  as  she  repeated,  "not 
now. " 

Recovering  her  composure,  she  continued,  as  she 
pointed  to  the  Major's  picture  on  the  center- table : 

"He  was  once  strong  and  brave,  and  loved  Evange- 
line.    Oh,  Joseph!  you  know    the  rest;"  and  she  hid 


THt:  LOGGER'S  STORY,  lYl 

her  tbce  while  I  felt  the  hot    tears  drop  on  my  hand. 

Wich  the  pain  of  an  arrow  entering  my  side, 
[  grasped  the  terrible  meaning.  This  noble  girl 
returned  a  deeper  love  than  I  could  give,  but  the 
awful  picture  of  a  broken  heart,  a  blasted  life,  a 
mound  in  the  grave-yard,  as  the  fruit  of  Rum's  pow- 
er, made  her  pause  at    the  threshold  with  misgiving. 

Eecovering  myself,  I  said  tenderly: 

"You  are  right,  Alice;  I  cannot  blame  you.  How- 
ever sad,  we  must  wait  till  you  know  I  am  free. 
How  cruel  in  me  to  ask  it  now!" 

For  hours  we  communed,  and  but  for  the  shadow, 
our  joy  would  have  been  almost  complete. 

"I'll  conquer  yet  aad  be  a  free  man,  my  Guardian 
Angel, "  I  said  at  parting. 

"Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  weary  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest,"  she  whispered;  "be 
strong  and  of  good  cheer,  my  royal  knight.  Adieu 
till  to-morrow. " 


218  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXXL 


WHIPPED  TO  DEATH. 

With  bright  anticipations  for  the  future,  I  went 
out  into  the  still  night,  walking  thoughtfully  toward 
home.  Passing  along  the  street  in  front  of  the  Major's 
house,  I  was  surpried  to  see  the  hall  lighted  and  the 
front  door  standing  open. 

"What  can  it  mean?"  I  queried,  stopping,  undecid- 
ed whether  to  go  on  or  in. 

Impelled  by  a  strange  foreboding,  I  hastened  up 
the  walk  and  entered.  In  the  parlor  were  chairs 
overturned,  and  fragments  of  a  broken  lamp  on  the 
carpet.  I  knocked,  but  no  answer;  then  I  rang  the 
bell,  but  all  was  quiet.  Pushing  my  way  into  the 
library,  I  found  everything  in  confusion. 

A  cold  chill  crept  over  me  as  I  fancied  I  saw  the 
worii  of  a  madman ;  and  the  fear  of  what  he  might 
have  done  made  me  tread  stealthily.  I  groped  my 
way  into  the  dining-room  and  struck  a  match.  Brok- 
en dishes  were  on  the  table  and  floor,  and  destruction 
reigned  everywhere.  Finding  a  small  lamp,  I  lighted 
it  and  pursued  my  search.  The  kitchen  showed  little 
of  the  ruin,  and  I  returned  to  the  hall. 

Up  the  richly  carpeted  stairs  I  tiptoed,  fearing  ev- 
ery moment  some  dreadful  revelation.  At  the  head 
I  stopped,  thinking  I  heard  a  sound.  Yes,  it  was  a 
moan,  and  came  from  Elsie's  room.  I  tapped  on  the 
door,  but  no  answer;  then  turned  the  knob  and  en- 
tered.    Again  I  heard  the    moan,    and  going  to    the 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  219 

oed,  saw  the  childish  form  stretched  upon  the  white 
couch,  dressed,  as  though  she  had  just  come  from  be- 
low. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Elsie?"  I  asked,  but  no  reply. 
Touching  her  upon  the  shoulder,  she  started  and 
turned  toward  me,  while  the  large,  sad  eyes  looked 
frightened.  As  I  glanced  at  the  sweet  face,  I  saw 
dark,  ugly  lines  that  told  something  of  the  story  to 
come. 

"O  Joseph;  is  it  you?"  she  asked  feebly. 

"Yes  Elsie,  "  I  answered ;   "but  what  has  happened?* 

"Sit  down  and  let  me  tell  you,"  she  said,  taking 
hold  of  my  hand. 

I  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  drawing  my 
ear  near  to  her  lips,  she  whispered : 

"I  fear  father  has  the  tremens  again.  He  came 
home  this  evening,  and  when  Annie  brought  in  his 
supper,  he  threw  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  into  her  face  and 
knocked  some  of  the  dishes  to  the  floor.  Annie  be- 
came so  frightened  that  she  ran  out  and  I  haven't 
seen  her  since.  I  quieted  him,  but  it  didn't  last 
long.  He  got  out  of  his  chair  and  began  breaking 
the  furniture.  As  he  threw  one  of  the  chairs  it  hit 
me  and  I  cried.  When  he  saw  it,  he  grasped  one  arm 
tight  and  struck  me  with  his  cane,  saying  <  I  won't 
have  any  babies  around  here. '  I  tried  to  stop  him, 
but  he  struck  me  again,  and  I  couldn't.  Then  he 
whipped  me,  and  whipped  me,  and  dragged  me 
around  the  room.  When  he  let  go,  I  fell  down  in 
the  corner.  Pretty  soon  I  came  to  and  he  was  just 
breaking  things  terribly.  I  crawled  out  into  the 
hall  and  tried  to  go  up    stairs,  .  but  my    back  pained 


220  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

me  so  I  sobbed  right  out  on  the  stairs.  Father  came 
in  and  swore  fearfully,  and  wanted  to  know  why  I 
didn't  stop  crying.  *I  will,  father,*  I  said,  as  I 
saw  his  wild  eyes,  but  he  caught  hold  of  me  again 
and  beat  me  till  his  cane  broke.  After  awhile  I 
crawled  upstairs,  but  he  came  after  me  with  another 
cane,  and  said  he'd  whip  me  till  I'd  stop  my  cry- 
ing. I  plead  with  him  not  to,  but  he  did,  till  I  fell 
down  and  thought  I  was  dying.  After  awhile  1 
came  to  and  crawled  in  here.  O,  Joseph!  I'll  soon 
see  mother.  I'm  all  bruised  and  broken.  1  can't 
stir  one  arm  and  there's  a  terrible  pain  in  my  side. 
Say  goodby  to  Alice    and    Mrs.    Wightman    for   mej 

and  say good by to Father. Let  me 

kiss you for him.  " 

As  I  pressed  my  lips  to  hers,  I  felt  the  cold  damp 
upon  them,    and  a  tremor  in  the  frail  form. 

"Goodby,  Elsie  dear,"  I  said,  while  the  tears 
rained  from  my  own  eyes ;  and  looking  into  her  face, 
as  I  gently  laid  the  white  hand  down,  saw  a  sweet 
smile  play  over  her  features. 

I  hastened  out  and  had  gone  only  a  block  when  I 
met  Dr.  Bronson.  With  little  explanation,  we  hurried 
back  and  entered  the  silent  room. 

The  time  of  moans  and  suffering  was  past.  Upon 
the  face  was  a  smile,  but  the  eyelids  drooped  and 
the  pulse  was  forever  still. 

"Too  late,  Joseph,  Elsie  is  with  her  mother, "  said 
the  doctor,  as  his  hand  felt  her  wrist.  "Whipped  to 
death  by  the  drink  scorpion,  is  my  verdict,  but  a 
jury  will  say,  'Major  Wright  did  it.'  'Tis  false: 
he  loved  her  too  well. " 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  .o-^i 

Leaving  the  doctor  to  watch,  I  went  to  call  Alice 
and  her  mother,  and  then  started  out  to  find  the 
maniac.  Meeting  an  officer,  I  asked  if  he  had  seen 
the  Major.  "Oh,  yes,"  was  his  answer.  "Two  of  us 
'rim  him  in'  an  hour  ago.  He  was  wild  as  a  loon 
and  strong  as  an  ox.  The  tremens  has  him  tight 
this  time,   and  if  he  gets  through,  I'll  wonder. " 

I  hastened  toward  the  jail,  and  heard  his  wild 
shrieks,  a  block  away.  Carelessly  they  had  thrust 
him  into  a  cell,  where  he  was  beating  the  walls  and 
bars,  and  making  the  night  hideous. 

"We  must  take  him  to  the  hospital, "  I  said  to  th© 
jailor.     Find  me  two  or  three  good  men. " 

A  few  moments  later,  three  strong  men  entered 
and  we  opened  the  cell  door.  A  terrible  struggle 
ensued,  but  the  maniac  was  finally  bound  and  car- 
ried to  a  waiting  carriage.  In  the  hospital  he  was 
securely  chained  on  a  strong  bed,  and  four  men 
waited  and  watched.  In  spite  of  fetters,  however,  he 
rolled  and  tossed,  much  of  the  time  requiring  our 
combined  strength  to  keep  him  in  place. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  night,  for  its  horrors 
and  cries  of  woe — the  wails  of  a  lost  soul — will  ring 
on  as  long  as  I  live.  Boys,  do  you  believe  that  the 
ear  of  a  just  God  can  be  deaf  to  such  cries?  Do  you 
believe  a  human  soul  can  go  down  in  such  hellish 
torture,  and  the  great  Creator  take  no  note  of  it,  or 
hunt  out  the  guilty  men  who  made  it  possible  and 
profitable? 

Toward  morning  the  fury  increased,  the  ravings 
grew  wilder,  and  the  coming  dissolution  was  evident 
on  every  feature. 


222  HIGH  JOE;  OB, 

"He  can't  last  lon^, "  was  the  physician's  remark, 
as  he  watched  the  heaving  breast  and  perspiring 
forehead. 

The  strangling  scorpions  seemed  to  close  tighter 
around  the  doomed  man,  and  furiously  he  tore  and 
fought  them,  screaming,  at  times,  in  an  agony  of  de- 
spair, "Take  them  off;  take  them  off;  they  are  strang- 
ling me  1     O,  Joseph;  can't  you  help!" 

His  last  hour  was  a  fearful  one.  In  his  dying 
struggle,  he  tossed  us  four  about  as  though  we  were 
boys.  I  can't  portray  the  scene;  it  beggars  descrip- 
tion; but  if  I  could  have  had  the  vast  army  of  men 
who  legalized  the  institutions  that  made  it  impossible 
for  him  to  resist  his  appetite,  pass  by  his  bedside 
and  hear  his  awful,  dying  oaths  and  cries,  it  seems  to 
me  they  would  repent  in  sackcloth  and  ashes, 
and  arise  in  their  might  and  free  this  land  and 
its  victims  forever  from  the  destroyer.  Would  they 
listen  to  tariff  humbuggery,  to  political  clap-trap,  to 
the  sophistry  of  demagogues,  with  such  a  picture 
painted  on  their  visions  and  such  wails  of  the  lost 
ringing  in  their  ears?  I  don't  believe  they  would,  un- 
less their  hearts  were  deadened  by  the  greed  for  gold. 

Two  days  later  the  mansion  was  thronged  with  a 
funeral  concourse.  Two  caskets  sat  in  the  richly 
furnished  parlors,  where  some  of  the  broken  furniture 
could  still  be  seen.  Rev.  Bliss  conducted  the  serv- 
ices; and,  as  he  told  how  the  innocent  child  had 
climbed  the  stairs,  her  great,  loving  heart  breaking 
in  sobs  that  the  brutal  demon  sought  to  whip  out, 
how  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed  to  wait  for  the 
anoels  to    carry  her   to  her  mother's    tender    bosom, 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  223 

and  how,  at  last,  the  sweet  life  had  gone  out,  with 
no  earthly  hand  to  hold  as  she  entered  the  dark 
waters,  tears  streamed  from  every  eye  and  sobs  made 
it  difficult  for  him  to  be  heard. 

"This  city  loses  one  of  its  grandest  men  and 
heaven  a  star  of  glory  in  Alajor  Wright's  awful 
death,"  said  the  brave  pastor;  "and  who  is  to  blame 
for  it?  Every  man  who  helped  place  one  hundred 
open  saloons  where  he  could  enter  them.  God  is 
writing  an  awful  record  in  His  judgment-book,  and 
every  man  who  has  aided  this  double  murder,  nay 
the  many  murders  that  have  occurred  in  this  city, 
will  have  to  meet  that  record.  TVe  make  excuses 
A^re,  but  there  we  will  not  dare  offer  them  or  plead  the 
success  of  parties,  policies  or  men  in  justification. 
Church  membership,  honesty  in  business,  or  philan- 
throphy  in  other  lines,  cannot  atone  for  deeds  that 
bring  such  sorrow,  blight  and  death.  I  say,  brethren, 
in  all  kindness,  that  the  hands  of  every  one  who  has 
helped  to  legalize  these  saloons,  are  to-day  reeking 
with  the  blood  of  rum's  victims.  The  church  of 
Christ  is  suffering  because  men  fear  to  follow  where 
the  loving  Master  leads.  I  would  not  be  a  true  pas- 
tor, if,  in  the  presence  of  these  slaughtered  ones,  I 
failed  to  utter  words  of  burning  truth  that  should 
arouse  each  one  to  his  duty.  The  past  is  dark  but 
we  can  make  the  future  glorious,  by  redeeming  our 
land  from  rum's  power  and  making  the  'banner  of  the 
cross'  more  powerful  than  the  banner  of  gold  or  par- 
ties. Man  can  do  this,  but  never  by  compromise 
with  his  enemies.  If,  by  the  death  of  these, 
we    can    be    awakened,      the    sacrifice,     though    sad, 


-m  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

may  not  be  in  vain.  Were  this  the  time  and  place, 
I  would  read  the  'woes'  pronounced  in  God's  word; 
out  the  gaping  wounds,  the  broken  hearts,  the  silent 
forms  of  father  and  daughter  soon  to  be  laid  away, 
are  lessons  strong  enough  for  to-day. " 

Then  opening  the  large  Bible,  he  read  that  wonder- 
ful closing  chapter.  I  listened  as  never  before  to 
the  words: 

"And  he  showed  me  a  pure  river  of  water  of  life, 
clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  thi'une  of  God 
and  of  the  Lamb. 

"In  the  midst  of  the  street  of  it,  and  on  either 
side  of  the  river,  was  there  the  tree  of  life,  which 
bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits  and  yielded  her  fruit 
every  month ;  and  the  leaves  of  the  tree  were  for  the 
healing  of  the  nations. 

"And  there  shall  be  no  more  curse  but  the  thro:  e 
of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  shall  be  in  it,  and  his  serv- 
ants shall  serve  him; 

"And  they  shall  see  His  face;  and  His  name  shall 
be  in  their  foreheads;  and  there  shall  be  no  night 
there. " 

The  seiToon  closed  and  a  multitude  followed  the 
doubly  laden  hearse  to  the  cemetery.  By  the  side  of 
the  mother's  grave  was  a  short  one  for  the  golden - 
haired  Elsie;  and  on  the  other  side,  one  for  the 
ruined  husband.  "Dust  to  dust  and  ashes  to  ashes" 
was  again  said,  and  the  fruits  of  man's  inhumanity, 
covered  by  the  rattling  clods. 

Alice  and  I  lingered,  while  they  filled  the  larger 
grave,  and  the  crowd  dispersed.  As  the  old  sexton 
came  to  the  small  one,    he    hesitated,  while  the  tears 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  225 

trickled  down  his  weatherbeaten  face.  Looking  up 
at  Alice,  he  said:  "I  couldn't  place  her  far  away,  for 
I  knowed  how  the  mother  loved  the  bairn.  I  would  like 
to  put  her  in  her  arms  to  rest  there  durin'  all  the  years 
to  come,  Miss  Alice,  but  I  couldn't.  'Tis  one  of  the 
saddest  funerals  I  ever  knowed,  and  I've  seen  lots 
I  could  count  more'n  a  hundred  here,  killed  by  liquor, 
and  the  Potter's  Field  over  yonder  is  full  of  'em. 
Tell  you  what,  Mr.  Strong,  I'm  most  afraid  to  come 
in  here  at  night  for  fear  I'll  hear  the  lost  ones  cryin' 
for  vengeance,  or  some  o'  the  angels  like  Mrs.  "Wright 
and  Elsie,  weepin'  over  the  graves;"  and  the  old 
man  slowly,  and  carefully,  began  his  sad  work. 

I  led  away  the  sorrowing  Alice,  and  as  we  entered 
the  carriage,  she  wept  aloud.  I  had  no  words  of 
comfort  and  could  only  place  my  arm  around  her  ten- 
derly, while  we  left  in  three  graves  all  that  once  made 
such  a  paradise  of  the  Major's  mansion. 

"No,  not  all, "  Alice  whispered,  as  we  neared  home, 
"for  the  chains  of  earth  are  broken,  and  the  grave 
has  lost  its  victory.  'There  shall  be  no  more  curse,' 
'and  there  shall  be  no  night  there.'  Joseph,  they  are 
not  in  the  tomb." 
15 


HIGH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 


RESCUED  IN    EXILE. 

Major  "Wright's  father  ha,d  been  wired,  but  he  did 
not  reach  the  city  until  the  day  after  the  funeral. 
'Twas  a  heart-rending  sight  as  the  old,  gray-haired 
man  wept  over  the  sad  story  of  his  once  noble  boy.  I 
went  with  him  to  the  cemetery,  and  he  sat  down  by 
the  three  graves,  a  truly  broken-hearted  man.  I  had 
read  or  heard  read,  often,  that  story  of  the  rebel- 
lious son  of  the  "  sweet  singer  of  Israel, "  but  never 
had  I  realized  the  force  of  those  memorable  words: 
"O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son;  would  God  I  had  died 
for  thee!  "  till  I  heard  that  sorrowing  father,  with 
similar  words,  mourn  over  his  lost  boy. 

"  'Twill  kill  his  mother,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
as  we  left.  "Only  a  few  days,  and  our  gray  hairs 
will  go  down  in  sorrow,  two  more  added  to  the 
mounds  in  the  graveyard." 

Before  leaving,  he  gave  me  full  power  to  settle  up 
the  estate,  saying: 

"I  want  you  to  have  the  house  and  his  books  for 
your  kindness,  and  then  use  the  rest  to  hght  the 
traffic  that  destroyed  him." 

With  many  misgivings,  I  took  up  my  legal  work; 
but  the  bitterness  of  former  days,  as  I  saw  more 
clearly  the  terrible  effects  of  the  saloon,  came  back 
with  greater  force.  I  found  myself  neglecting  my 
business,  in  order  to  help  others  plan  for  public 
meetings  or  proscjutions. 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY  227 

"  I  can't  keep  the  matter  from  my  mind,  '*  I  said  to 
a  friend  who  remonstrated.  "  The  traffic  has  burned 
too  deep  a  scar  to  be  forgotten.  I  am  its  sworn 
enemy. " 

My  business  grew  rapidly,  and  by  fall  I  had  my 
hands  full.  Alice's  face  brightened  with  the  flowers 
of  summer,  and  her  happiness  and  welcome  smile 
made  me  long  for  the  day  when  she  would  fill  my 
home  with  sunshine;  but  I  hesitated  about  pressing 
the  imanswered  question  of  that  memorable  night. 
In  spite  of  growing  strength  in  my  profession,  the 
ever  present  appetite  made  me  doubt  my  power  to 
resist,  and  memory  of  the  past  darkened  the  future. 

During  the  fall  term  of  court,  Mrs.  Wightman,  as 
a  surprise  for  me,  planned  a  large  party  to  which 
she  invited  the  local  and  all  other  attorneys  in  at- 
tendance, together  with  a  host  of  our  friends.  The 
gathering  was  a  most  pleasant  affair  and  closed  with 
elaborate  refreshments.  At  the  head  of  the  table  sat 
the  judge,  while  I  occupied  the  foot.  Delicate  blocks 
of  ice  cream  were  served,  and  as  I  ate,  I  detected  a 
strange  tingle  that  slowly  spread  to  my  very  finger 
tips,  till  the  awful  truth  dawned  on  me  that  brandy 
was  the  cause.  With  difficulty  I  retained  my  place 
at  the  table,  determined  to  control  myself. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  tell  Alice;  but,  knowing 
how  pained  and  worried  she  would  be,  decided  to 
wait  till  morning.  "  Now  is  the  time, "  the  tempter 
whispered,  "  to  show  your  strength,  defy  appetite 
and  be  a  man. " 

With  new  resolves,  I  said,  almost  savagely,  "  I  mil 
conquer    and    she   shall    not   know    it."     Then,    as   I 


228  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

bade  her  a  tender  good-night,  there  arose  in  my  heart 
a  cry  for  strength  to  withstand  the  tempter.  With 
the  battle  raging,  I  went  out,  all  the  while  saying, 
"  I  will  resist,  I  will  conquer, "  but  all  the  while 
doubting  my  ability. 

I  passed,  with  clenched  fists,  one,  two,  three,  four, 
five,  six  saloons,  and  heard  the  clink  of  the  glasses, 
the  tap  of  the  billiard  balls,  the  boisterous  laugh  and 
jest,  and  breathed  the  rum  polluted  air  that  streamed 
through  the  doors.  Suddenly,  I  saw  a  bar-keeper 
alone,  turning  down  the  lights.  Like  a  flash,  dark 
thoughts  went  through  my  mind  with  a  resistless 
power,  moving  me  by  their  strange  momentum.  How 
or  why,  I  know  not,  but  the  subtle  tempter  with  his 
wand  of  death,  seemed  to  make  one  pass,  and  I  was 
in  his  power.  Boys,  I  drank  again,  long  and  deep; 
and,  as  the  stars  were  waning  in  the  east,  I  stag- 
gered home  and  found  my  anxious,  ever  faithful 
mother,  watching  for  me. 

"O,  Joseph!"  she  cried,  as  she  understood  all,  "has 
it  come  to  this  again?"  and  throwing  her  arms  around 
my  neck,  wept  bitterly. 

I  was  too  "full"  to  be  greatly  affected  by  her  sor- 
row and  was  soon  asleep.  Toward  noon  I  awakened 
and  realized  my  mother's  grief  in  the  sad  face  that 
appeared  ten  years  older  than  the  previous  night. 

With  difficulty  I  resisted  the  impulse  to  hurry  to 
the  nearest  saloon.  As  I  watched  my  mother,  I 
thought  seriously  of  the  future  and  realized  that 
there  were  only  a  few  steps  between  me  and  Major 
Wright.      With    little   confidence   in    being    able    to 


TEE  LOGGER'S  STORT.  829 

control  my  appetite  if  I  ventured  forth  alone,  I  ex- 
plained all  to  her. 

"You  must  get  away  from  these  places  of  tempta- 
tion," were  her  encouraging  words,  "and  be  a  strong 
man  again." 

Picking  up  the  Herald,  my  eye  caught  the  large 
head  lines:  "The  Cold  Water  Crank  Goes  Home 
Drunk. "  "  The  Devoted  Apostle  of  Prohibition  Pre^ 
paring  to  Follow  His  Master,  the  Dead  Major."  Then 
followed  an  account  of  my  fall  and  drinken  condi- 
tion when  I  reached  home,  told  in  the  most  cutt^'ng, 
unsympathetic  way. 

My  first  thought  was  of  Alice,  and  calling  my 
father,  requested  him  to  go  and  see  Mr.  Wightman. 
He  complied  and  found  him  at  his  store  with  no 
knowledge  of  the  terrible  report. 

"We  will  go  at  once  to  the  house, "  were  his  prompt 
words.      "They  may  have  seen  it." 

Mrs.  Wightman,  busy  with  her  work,  had  not  seen 
the  paper,  but  Alice  had  read  the  full  report.  As  she 
looked  inquiringly  at  my  father,  he  read  her  question 
and  said; 

"Yes,  Alice,  it  is  all  true;  but  the  fire  was  kindled 
here  last  evening.  Joseph  has  sent  for  your  father, 
and  we  hope  he  will  soon  be  himself." 

Mr.  Wightman  came,  and  with  his  advice,  1 
planned  to  close  my  office  for  a  time.  My  only  safety 
was  in  getting  away.  Packing  a  large  satchel  with 
woodmen's  clothes,  Mr.  Wightman  drove  north  with 
me  till  I  found  a  safe  place  in  a  logging  camp.  I 
could  not  meet  Alice,  but  sent  a  note  in  w^^ch  I  ex- 
plained all  and  bade  her  a  brief  good-bye. 


230  HIGH  JOE;  OR 

The  winter  passed  pleasantly  and  I  became  an 
expert  chopper.  I  did  not  drink  because  there  was 
no  opportunity.  The  hearty  food  and  out-door  work 
gave  me  a  vigor  and  strength  never  before  known, 
but  there  lurked  the  feeling  that  I  was  unsafe  where- 
ever  the  legalized  potion  of  death  could  be  had. 

When  spring  came,  I  refused  a  place  on  the  log- 
drive,  as  it  would  take  me  through  the  cities  where 
the  destroyer  waited  for  the  army  of  toilers. 

Mr.  Wightman  met  me  at  the  near  east  railway 
station  and  I  was  soon  in  the  old  home  again.  Let- 
ters had  passed  constantly  between  Alice  and  myself, 
and  I  found  her  happy  at  my  return.  There  was, 
however,  a  strange,  far-away  look  in  her  eyes  when- 
ever they  met  mine,  and  I  could  but  feel  that  a  great 
fear  tortured  her. 

"Will  you  open  your  office  again,  Joseph?"  she 
asked,  when  we  were  alone. 

"Would  you  advise  it?"  I  replied,  searching  in  her 
truthful  eyes  her  deepest  thought. 

"Joseph,  I  know  of  no  safety  while  you  lean  on 
your  own  will-power.  Only  the  G-reat  Physician  can 
make  it  possible  for  you  to  tread  safely  amid  the 
destroyer's  snares,"  she  answered  earnestly. 

I  was  silent  for  a  time,  then  said: 

"I  shall  return  to  the  woods,  Alice,  for  there  I  am 
safe.  In  your  temples  of  worship  is  an  army,  who 
ihave  so  little  love  for  their  fellows  that  they  help 
•enthrone  on  every  street  and  in  every  hamlet,  the 
blackest  destroyer  the  world  ever  knew.  Having 
helped  to  ruin  the  thDughtless  boys  of  Christian 
ihomes,  they  now  prescribe  their  religion  as  an  anti- 


^HE  LOGGERS  STORY.  231 

dote.  I  don't  want  such  religion.  I'd  rather  have 
the  worship  of  a  heathen. " 

"Don't,  Joseph,"  she  said,  as  my  words  grew  more 
.bitter.  "Judge  not  the  loving  Christ  by  His  weak 
children.  He's  mighty  to  save.  I  know  it,  Joseph, 
and  you  will  some  dayj"  and  she  looked  at  me  with 
radiant  eyes. 

"Maybe  I'll  find  him,  then,  in  the  forest  wilds, "  I 
answered,  while  I  hungered  for  her  faith  and 
strength. 

"I  believe  you  will,  my  tall  knight,  and  then  you'll 
be  my  royal  knight,"  she  said  with  a  warm  press  of 
my  hand,  as  she  bade  me   "good-night. " 

The  few  days  I  remained  at  home,  passed  quickly ; 
and  I  returned  to  the  iorest,  where  I  found  plenty  of 
work.  Slowly  the  weeks  went  by,  each  bringing 
a  word  of  hope  and  lov«  from  the  queen  of  my  heart. 
They  were  not  simple  love-letters,  but  every  word 
was  fragrant  with  the  Christlike  faith  and  hope  of 
the  writer.  She  was  sowing  seeds  that  I  had  every 
reason  to  believe  were  watered  by  her  tears  and 
prayers. 

The  summer  wore  away  siowly,  but  the  longing  in 
my  heart  was  unsatisfied.  I  said,  day  after  day,  as 
I  breathed  the  fresh  forest  winds,  "I  am  no  stronger 
to  resist  than  I  was  a  year  agoj  what  am  I  gaining 
here?" 

Each  Saturday  I  walked  *:er  miles  to  the  nearest 
postoffice  for  my  mail,  where  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  a  Christian  family.  The  childrer  always  ran  to 
meet  me  when  they  saw  the  "tall  man"  coming,  and 
in  time  they  learned  my  story.     Though  poor  in  this 


232  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

world's  possessions,  they  opened  a  store-house  of 
riches,  that,  in  spite  of  my  rebellious  words  in  the 
past,  awakened  a  new  hope. 

Before  wending  my  way  back  through  the  towering, 
pines,  one  evening,  I  promised  these  friends  to  attend 
a  gospel  service  to  be  held  by  a  woman  on  the  mor- 
row,  but  wondered   what  she  could   say   that  would 
be  of  value  to  me. 

"I  can't  stand  this  long,  I  muttered  as  I  shook 
the  dew  from  the  overhanging  brush  till  I  was  damp 
and  chilled. 

The  next  morning  found  me  early  in  the  small 
room  that  had  been  fitted  with  rough  boards  for 
seats,  waiting  for  people  and  speaker.  In  time,  both 
arrived  and  the  service  began.  At  first  I  was  a  mere 
spectator,  then  I  joined  in  the  gospel  hymns.  A 
few  songs,  a  prayer,  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  and 
then  a  half  hour's  talk  from  a  heart  full  of  love  for 
unsaved  men,  ind  the  simple  service  ended.  The 
speaker,  taking  my  hand,  thanked  me  for  my  assis- 
tance in  the  singing,  and  asked  me  to  come  in  the 
evening. 

I  knew  I  had  been  fed  by  her  simple  words,  out 
just  how  I  could  not  tell.  Although  the  house  was 
full  in  the  evening,  the  message  seemed  directed 
especially  to  me,  and  her  appeals  awakened  responses 
that  she  read  with  woman's  intuition.  At  the  close 
she  asked  if  there  was  not  one  heart  hungering  for  a 
new  life. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  i  did,  i  arose.  I  shall 
never  forget  her  earnest  "thank  God,"  nor  the  haH 
hour  that  followed;  but    a    peace   and  strength  came 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORY.  233 

that  I  had  never  known  before,    and  something  whis- 
pered:     'You  can  now  defy  the  power  of  appetite.' 

Before  I  left,  that  evening,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Alice, 
telling  her  that  the  "Lion  of  Judah, "  had  broken 
my  chains,  and  I  would  be  home  as  soon  as  possible. 

A  month  later,  I  was  greeted  by  the  girl  who  had 
waited  so  long  for  the  "glad  news, "  and  it  seemed  as 
though  she  was  ten  years  younger. 

To  her  query  as  to  what  I  would  do,  I  said:  "I 
am  going  to  work  in  the  woods  one  more  winter,  and 
then  I  am  coming  to  claim  the  prize  I  know  is  wait- 
ing. " 

"All  right,  my  royal  knight,  but  what  then?"  she 
queried. 

"Then  my  work  again,  my  books,  my  profession, 
my  home  so  long  delayed.  I  believe  now  I  can  with- 
stand the  onslaught  of  the  enemy,  but  I  would  not 
dare  to  touch  the  poison  cup.  With  the  help  of  Him 
who  has  broken  my  chains,  I  can  walk  these  streets 
and  not  enter  the  doors  of  death.  Are  you  willing 
to  trust  me  now,  Alice?"  and  I  placed  my  arm  around 
the  girl  to  whom  I  owed  so  much. 

"I'll  trust  the  Master,  Joseph,"  she  said,  leanincr 
her  head  against  my  shoulder  and  looking  up  with  a 
smile  I  had  never  seen  before. 

After  remaining  a  short  time,  I  came  back  to  the 
woods  and  met  you.  It's  been  a  pleasant  winter  for 
me  and  I  trust  it  has  for  you.  I  don't  expect  to  be 
with  you  again,  although  I  enjoy  the  work;  but  I 
shall  never  forget  the  boys  in  the  woods  nor  the  men 
who  are  waiting  to  ensnare  them. 

That  is  my  story  boys,  and  I  trust  you  understand 
why  I  have  told  it  so  minutely. 


234  EIQH  JOE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 


COME    TO  THE    KINGDOM. 

"I  understand, "  exclaimed  Pat  Kinney,  "and  I  don't 
mane  iver  to  drink  agin.  But  I  niver  enjoyed  a  story 
so  much.  Yees'  a  capital  fellow,  High  Joe;"  and 
the  impetuous  Irishman  grasped  the  broad  palm  of 
his  entertainer,  while  his  eyes  showed  respect  and 
honor. 

"Ze  novelle  will  teach  ze  boys  one  grand  lesson," 
broke  in  little  "Frenchy.  "  "When  ze  spring  comes  I 
shall  go  down  wiz  ze  boss,  so  ze  zaloons  don't  got  ze 
money.  I  want  to  see  ze  Queen  Alice  and  ze  wed- 
ding." 

A  general  laugh  followed  the  remark,  showing,  as 
It  did,  a  strong  desire  to  see  the  full  ending  of  the 
story. 

"All  right!"  said  High  Joe,  rising,;  "we'll  sea 
about  that,  later." 

"Boys,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  stepping  forward, 
"we  are  greatly  indebted  to  High  Joe  for  his  excel- 
ent,  though  sad  story.  I  know  I  have  learned  a 
much  needed  lesson  and  hereafter  I  shall  try  to  help 
all  of  my  men  to  be  sober.  I  shall  also  do  my  best  to 
drive  out  every  man  who  proposes  to  sell  them  drink. 
We  all  know  why  High  Joe  has  told  us  so  minutely 
his  story,  and  can  begin  our  work  by  signing  a 
plec^ge.      How  many  will  do  it?" 

"I  will,  be  jabbers,"    said  Pat,     pushing  his    way 


THE  LOGGER'S  STORT.  235 

towards  the  speaker.     "You   write    one   out  and  I'U 

sisni  first."  J 

"All  right,"  said  the  Colonel,  drawing  a  pen   and 

paper  from  his  pockets.      "You  shan't  want  for  an  op- 

portunity;"  and  after  a  moment's  writing  he  read  it 

Pat  wrote  his  name  in   ragged  characters,  and   was 

foU  wed  by  the  others  until  every   name  was  signed 

-ni  take  that  to  the    other  camps,"  remarked  the 

Colonel,  folding    the  sheet   and    replacing  it   m  his 

pocket.      "Now  I    want  all    who  are    convinced  that 

the  saloons  are  bad  and  only  bad,  and  are  wilhng  to 

help  fi-ht  them,  to    stand  up    so  that  High  Joe  may 

know  how  many  converts  he  has  made. 

At  once  all  arose,  when  the  Colonel  ^aj^,  Thank 
you,  boys,"  and  led  the  way  for  a  general  hand-shake 
^  With  his  keen  ear.  High  Joe  had  caught  -ords  here 
and  there,  as  he  mingled  with  the  boys,  fJ^^^J^^^ 
that  scarcely  one  had  escaped  the  blight  of  the  drink- 
robber.  Some,  he  knew,  bore  scars  as  deep  as  his 
own,  while  others    were  but   wrecks  of    once  strong 

""  For  an  hour  all  enjoyed  a  general  chat,  and  then 
the  cook  called  for  the  room  for  supper  Soon  a 
steaming  meal  was  spread  on  the  plain  boards,  and  it 
was  High  Joe's  turn  to  be  surprised.  As  he  looked 
over  the  various  dishes,  he  said :  ,      .    „ 

"This  is  a  meal  fit  for  a  king;  some  one  else  has 
been  furnishing  good  things,  I  guess. "_  ^^ 

"Ze  Colonel  ez   ze  one  who  treats  zis   time,     said 

"■^•^"ef" 'answered  the  Colonel,   "I  thought  High  Joe 


236  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

would  be  hungry  when  he  got  through.     Help  your- 
selves,  boys." 

*         *         *         «         » 

Eapidly  the  winter  wore  away,  High  Joe  retaining 
not  only  his  place  as  "boss,"  but  gaining  steadily 
the  regard  and  confidence  of  the  men.  Many  bits  of 
personal  history  were  poured  into  his  ear  from  time 
to  time,  enabling  him  to  give  valuable  counsel  and 
encouragement. 

"I  never  had  a  crew  accomplish  so  much  in  one 
winter, "  said  the  Colonel  when  spring  came.  I  wish 
I  had  more  of  them. " 

"Yees'  have  more,  if  ye  had  such  bosses,"  said 
Pat  Kinney. 

"Guess  that's  so,  Pat,"  was  the  answer,  "but  they 
can't  be  picked  up  every  day. " 

That  evening  a  meeting  was  held,  at  which  plans 
for  leaving  the  woods  were  discussed,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  each  should  receive  his  pay  in  High 
Joe's  office,  when  the  time  came.  All  except  the 
"boss"  decided  to  go  on  the  drive,  and  he  left,  saying 
he  would  get  things  ready  for  their  reception. 

"You  see,  Freuchy,  I'd  have  to  learn  to  ride  a  log, 
if  I  went,  and  you'd  be  laughing  at  my  clumsy  ways," 
said  High  Joe. 

"No,  no,"  was  the  impulsive  answer;  "ze  High  Joe 
can  learn  ze  trick  zo  quick  as  nottings.  He  would 
lead  ze  best,  soon.  " 

High  Joe  laughed  and  bade  the  boys  good-bye, 
urging  them  to  stand  by  their  promise.  "The  thing 
to  do  is  to  help  each  other, "  said  he,  "and  you'll  all 
find  it  much  easier. " 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  237 

"We  will,  we  will, "  was  the  hearty  answer,  as  he 
drove  away,  followed  by  the  benedictions  of  as  brave 
a  lot  of  fellows  as  ever  swung  the  ax. 

A  month  later  they  finished  their  work  and  wended 
their  way  to  the  "place  of  meeting,"  where  they 
were  royally  received  by  the  "boss"  who  had  made 
careful  preparations  for  their  care  and  entertainment 
To  all  of  the  tempter's  advances,  they  had  success- 
fully turned  a  deaf  ear,  and  declared  they  never  felt 
so  well. 

Other  preparations  had  also  been  in  progress  in 
the  Wightman  home.  The  tall  knight  was  given  a 
warm  welcome  on  his  appearance,  and  the  wood- 
man's garb  was  replaced  by  a  suit  that  bespoke  busi- 
ness of  another  kind. 

While  he  spent  his  time  straightening  up  the  old 
office,  arranging  books,  and  preparing  for  the  future, 
Alice  was  equally  busy.  When  the  day's  work  was 
done,  the  two  were  seen  often  to  climb  the  steps  of 
the  old  Wright  home  where  men  were  busy  painting 
and  papering,  and  before  the  month  had  passed,  ev- 
erything was  ready,  with  no  traces  of  the  serpent's 
curse  in  sight. 

At  last  the  day  for  which  these  preparations  had 
been  made,  arrived.  The  Wightman  home  was  tast- 
ily decorated  and  a  quiet  charm  pervaded  everything. 

Quite  a  circle  of  friends  were  invited  but  the  chief 
place  was  reserved  for  the  "boys"  who  consented  to 
be  present.  'Twas  a  proud  day  for  them  to  know 
that  the  "High  Joe"  of  the  woods  was  the  same  true 
friend  when  surrounded    by  the  luxuries    of    wealth, 


238  HIGH  JOE;  Oh, 

and  that  he  counted  their  friendship    such    as    to  In- 
vite them  to  this  chief  event  ol  his  eventful  life. 

When  the  hour  arrived,  the  nearly  fifty  men  found 
places  in  the  cheery  rooms.  Leading  the  two  crip- 
ples by  the  hand,  came  Ben  Pitts,  his  face  strong  and 
hopeful,  while  his  wife  looked  years  younger.  The 
two  children  of  Peter  Mackin  were  among  those 
whose  bright  faces  added  to  the  pleasure  of  the  occa- 
sion. The  little  girl  whose  mother  was  burned  was 
also  there,  with  a  circle  of  friends  whose  bond  was 
genuine  affection  and  interest,  rather  than  social 
position  or  wealth. 

High  Joe's  father  and  mother  with  their  white 
locks,  moved  quietly  among  the  guests,  but  the  lines 
of  sorrow  on  their  faces  told  the  despoiler's  work. 

Dr.  Bronson  was  one  of  the  cheeriest  of  the  cheery, 
bis  smile  and  voice  betokening  hearty  good  wiii,  con- 
fidence in  others  and  faith  in  himself.  He  had  be- 
come a  quiet  but  indefatigable  worker  in  the  warfare 
against  the  saloon  traffic,  having  so  much  courage 
that  dark  days  never  shut  out  his  hope  in  coming 
victory. 

'G-ood  pastor  Bliss  and  his  wife  were  there,  the  lat- 
ter to  yield  the  good  cheer  of  her  presence,  and  the 
former,  as  he  said,  "to  see  that  the  new  team  was 
harnessed  securely." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wightman  received  all  with  hearty 
hand-shakes  and  words  of  pleasant  greeting. 

Thus  the  many  friends  who  had  come  to  have  a  real 
Interest  in  those  who  formed  the  chief  attraction, 
found  themselves  warmly  welcomed. 

The    little    Frenchman   could  scarcely    control  his 


THE  LOGGERS  STORY.  239 

Impetuosity  when  the  two  for  whom  all  were  waitincTj 
appeared.  High  Joe  resembled  very  little  the  stal- 
wart chopper.  Dressed  in  a  plain,  black  suit,  with 
beard  and  hair  well  cut,  he  looked,  as  Pat  Kinney 
whispered,  "more  like  a  gineral  than  a  chopper;" 
while  Frenchy  exclaimed,  "Ze  Miss  Alice  is  ze  queen 
ze  High  Joe  pictured — ze  beautiful,  beautiful  wom 
anz. " 

The  ceremony  was  brief  but  pleasing,  and  when 
the  last  word  was  spoken  the  little  Parisian  was  the 
first  to  extend  his  impulsive  hand  for  congratulations. 
One  after  another  pressed  forward,  and  the  tender 
arms  of  childhood — some  plump  and  strong,  others 
crippled  and  shrunken — clasped  lovingly  the  nect  of 
the  queenly  girl  who  bent  to  receive  their  caresses, 
while  little  lips  told  their  story  of  affection  by  a 
hearty  kiss.  Many  a  moist  eye  said  more  than  words 
could  express,  but  they  were  tears  of  happiness  and 
deep  satisfaction  rather  than  of  sorrow  or  regret. 

After  a  sumptuous  repast,  the  large  company  es- 
corted the  happy  couple  to  their  new  home.  An 
hour  was  spent  most  pleasantly,  when  goodbys  were 
said,  and,  with  many  a  fervent  "God  bless  you,  and 
give  you  happines  and  peace, "  High  Joe  and  Alice 
were  left  alone. 

Into  this  new  home  we  will  only  take  a  parting 
glance.  For  an  hour  the  two  sat  talking  over  the 
future.  Whether  it  held  in  store  for  them  joy  or  sor- 
row, depended  upon  the  strength  of  the  husband  to 
resist  the  giant  enemy. 

"Only  the  'Lion  of  Judah'  can  bring  me  off  more 
than    conqueror    in  the  coming   conflict,  Alice,"  said 


240  HIGH  JOE;  OR, 

he,  with  his  arm  around  the  noble  woman  whom  he 
would  ever  protect  and  love. 

"Yes,  Joseph,"  was  her  answer,  as  she  glanced  up 
into  his  admiring  eyes.  "With  His  loving  care  and 
strength  I  have  no  misgivings.  My  royal  knight  will 
only  be  a  soldier  to  follow  where  He  leads. " 

Like  Joseph  in  his  pilgrimage,  an  altar  was  erected 
then  and  there ;  and,  as  the  days  of  real  life  and  war- 
fare slipped  into  years,  the  ladder  from  that  altar  to 
the  skies  has  stood  firm  and  strong.  Daily,  angels 
come  and  go,  bearing  peace  and  happiness  to  her  who 
could  trust  the  Master,  and  keeping  the  once  weak 
man,  a  stalwart  High  Joe,  with  a  keen  ax  ever  ready 
for  ail  wrongs  that  oppress  his  fellows. 


TH£   END 


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